


Forever and a Day....

by Lilachigh



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:50:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 43,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilachigh/pseuds/Lilachigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Year's Eve in London...you never know whom you'll meet and how that meeting will change your life forever....Buffy Summers is about to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meetings and Greetings

Forever and a Day... by Lilachigh

Chp 1: Meetings and Greetings

 

(At the time this is set, New Year's Eve was still being celebrated mainly in Trafalgar Square. Now, of course, the party is mostly on the Embankment, opposite the London Eye.)

 

Her cell phone started chirping as soon as she turned it on once she'd landed in England. The arrivals area at Gatwick Airport was crowded with people, meeting, greeting, laughing, crying. 

Buffy pulled her suitcase to one side to avoid a party of noisy school-children being met by happy parents and gazed at the little window on her phone. Messages, lots of them, as usual. She’d read them in a minute. People never stopped contacting her, wanting advice or help. She wondered briefly what her life would have been like if she’d had a cell phone ten years earlier. She could think of countless occasions when it would have changed things completely. One day she’d make a list....

She yawned, then yawned again - so tired. She seemed to have been travelling for ever. Sometimes it struck her as odd. She, who’d rarely left Sunnydale because she was the Slayer, now found herself almost constantly in motion, flying round the world to check up on young Slayers in other countries. Although she was based in Rome, she didn’t feel it was home. Home was still California, a town called Sunnydale which was being slowly rebuilt. The tragic ‘earthquake’ was beginning to fade in people’s memories and Buffy had heard that houses were going up now, schools, shops, churches and, of course, cemeteries. Although she supposed they were digging down for the latter.

But for now she was in England to see in the New Year with Giles and Willow. She was two days late because she’d stopped in Switzerland to spend some time with Dawn who’d been skiing with friends over the Christmas holidays. It was nice to see Dawn happy. Even nicer to know that Andrew was also in Switzerland, ostensibly taking care of a Swiss Slayer who was having parent problems, but also keeping an eye on Dawn. Those two had an odd friendship – not sexual, even Buffy could see that. They were both fiercely protective of each other and Buffy knew no harm would come to Dawn with Andrew lurking in the background. 

She looked round now for Willow’s red hair, for Giles’ smiling face. It would be so lovely to be met, tucked into a warm car and driven somewhere without having to think too much about what or where she was going. Make no decisions. She decided that was going to be her New Year’s resolution. She didn’t even want to choose between chicken sandwich or cheese-burger until next year! 

But there was no sign of anyone she recognised waiting for her. They’d probably been held up in traffic and were trying to park. She leant against a wall and allowed her weary limbs to relax. For a brief second she let her brain go down a track that she’d forbidden herself to walk again. What would it be like to be met by a thin, blond man wearing a black leather coat and dusty boots? It was odd: his voice would sound completely at home here in England. He would reach out and take her case, run his hand down her cheek, kiss her....

No! She slammed the door shut on those thoughts. Why would he be at the airport? Oh, he’d professed to love her; she could remember all the fine words he’d spoken, all the romantic actions, her body was still imprinted with the feel of his hands. Her nerve endings still sang in memory of what he’d done to them. But like all the men in her life, living or dead, he’d walked away when it suited him.

She’d known he was back on earth before Andrew let it slip, of course. The ties that bound them were still there. She would always know if he was in her world. She’d been so happy it was painful to remember. She couldn’t stop trembling, found herself looking out of the window at the Roman streets after dark, expecting to see him climbing out of a cab, walking up to the apartment block. She had lain awake, night after night, shaking with an emotion too powerful to name, but it felt like joy.

In agony she'd waited for the phone to ring; refusing to leave the apartment for days, not eating, surviving on black coffee until Dawn became angry with her. Even when she’d reluctantly started to live her life again, she’d rushed home at every opportunity, checking the answer-phone, picking up the receiver every ten minutes to check that it was working.

She’d felt sick all the time. That gut-clenching pain deep inside that never went away, night or day. It was as if she was back in the time of the awful Parker, feeling insecure, unhappy, unloved, lost. She hadn’t known where Spike was, of course, so had been unable to ring him. Then Andrew had told her and it was as if her whole world had dissolved into acid around her.

He was in Los Angeles with Angel! And neither of them had told her. She couldn’t believe it. But it was true. Oh, she could understand Angel not telling her. No one could carry jealousy so long or so well as a vampire, particularly that one. But one phone call from Spike, that was all she wanted. To hear his voice, know that it wasn’t some game Andrew was playing, some story he was making up, that Spike was back. 

Even if he didn’t want to see her again, surely she deserved more than this silence? And if she didn’t, then what about Dawn? He’d said he would always look after her. Yeah! As long as it suited him, obviously.

For a few weeks she’d lost herself. She’d met the Immortal, gone on a round of sex, drinking, dancing, clubbing, anything to stop herself thinking about Spike and the fact that he didn’t love her, had probably never loved her. She’d just been a challenge to his male ego. What was it he had once said to her, something like, ‘Nothing as good as doing a Slayer!’

But hey - she came back to her surroundings with a jerk. She was Buffy Summers and it was time she faced up to the reality of her life: there was something about her that men found distasteful, or boring or hard to cope with in the long run. That was a fact she had to face. Eventually they all left - her Dad, Angel, Parker, Riley, Spike - okay, she’d once thought Spike was different. But she’d been proved wrong. So grow up, Buffy and face the facts.

Also a fact to face was that Willow and Giles were not here to meet her. She flicked open her phone and began to scroll down through her messages.

Hi, Buffy, can’t meet u. Gott demons in Norwich. Tell Willow know milk. Hippy Nu Year. Giles.

Hey Buffy, can’t get thru to Giles but tell him front door key is under flower pot. Have to go to Wales. Kennedy having problems with 2 vamps who are siring like mad. Happy New Year. Willow.

“Oh great, just what I need,” Buffy groaned. She wanted a bath and a hot drink and a comfy bed to sleep in, but instead she headed wearily for the train to take her into London. 

The Gatwick Express was crowded with people happy to celebrate the New Year. Buffy was crunched between two large men, trying desperately to stop herself using her Slayer strength to shove them out of the way so she could breathe.

At London Bridge station she caught a taxi out to Limehouse, the area of the rejuvenated London docklands where Giles and Willow had a large apartment overlooking the Thames. The building was new, shiny and modern and the collection of antique books about magic, vampires and demons looked odd on the chrome shelves lining the walls, but Giles had said it was worth living in a new development just to get the panoramic view of the river, especially at night.

The key was just where Willow had said it would be. Buffy unpacked, had a shower, then wandered round, restless and uneasy, looking at the weird things Giles and Willow had collected over the months since the end of Sunnydale.

The old year was on its way out, a new one was beginning. She wondered what it would bring for her and those she loved, why she couldn't summon up any enthusiasm for the months that lay ahead. Dawn had plunged into her new life, Xander was busy with Faith and Robin in Cleveland, keeping an eye on the baby Hellmouth that was beginning to develop there. Willow, Kennedy - even Giles, were busy, busy, busy. Everyone looking forward, never back.

Suddenly, she couldn’t face being here indoors on her own any longer. She wanted to loose herself in the middle of a crowd, somewhere noisy so she didn’t have to think - or remember what and whom she’d lost. It was New Year’s Eve - she would go to Trafalgar Square and see in the New Year in style. She snatched up a jacket and headed for the dark London night. Outside, Buffy hesitated. As she’d arrived by taxi, she wasn’t at all sure which way to walk to the nearest Underground station. Once outside the security gates of the new development, the roads were narrow, dark and empty.

She could smell the river close by, feel the chill coming off the water. Her footsteps echoed off the pavement as she hurried along. She shivered; she had the distinct impression that she was being followed. Stopping abruptly, she swung round, her hand going to the stake she still carried in her pocket. Nothing. Nobody. No footsteps echoed hers. Just dark, empty shadows, the rumble of a train somewhere and the hooting of a boat on the Thames. But the hairs on the back of her neck were rising, and she could feel that shiver running through her body that meant only one thing - vampire!

“You might as well come out and get it over with,” she called. “Look, it’s New Year’s Eve and I haven’t got time to play games. Either go away or come and fight.”

The rattle of a can being kicked was her answer as three dark, hooded shapes appeared. And two of them were holding knives. But these weren’t vampires. “Oh English muggers! Great!” Buffy said. “That’s just what I need tonight. Don’t you lot have a party to go to?” She side-stepped as they rushed her and the next few seconds were a blur of motion. Two went down, howling as she kicked them in extremely delicate parts of their anatomy. But the biggest got lucky. As she spun to kick him, her supporting foot slipped and the next second he was on her, swearing, punching, the knife perilously close to her face.

Then suddenly he was hauled away from her and sent flying across the road, screaming, to land in a heap on the far side. As she rolled over and leapt up, he and his mates clambered to their feet and fled. “Hey, thanks for your help, that was - ” She turned round, dusting herself down, then looked up at her rescuer, the words dying on her lips.

The hair was still blond but softer, curlier. He looked older, thinner. There were unhealed bruises and cuts on the face that was turning to human from vampire even as she looked. But the eyes were still a blazing blue, the expression in them making her knees shake. He was standing in the circle of light thrown by a street lamp, his fists pushed deep in the pockets of his duster, just looking at her.

“Spike,” she whispered.

“Buffy.”

“Spike.“

“I think we’ve already established that, pet.”

“What....” her head was throbbing and she reached out a hand, blindly, in his direction. But he didn’t move.

“How are you?”

“Me? How am I? Oh, I’m very well,” she said sarcastically. “Absolutely first class, as you Brits would say. Top hole, old bean. Tally ho. God save the Queen. Rule Britannia!”

Spike looked at her puzzled and concerned. “Have you been drinking, Slayer? You weren’t fighting very well and you sound - odd.”

“Odd? Odd?” Buffy had never felt so angry in her entire life. It was as if the very blood in her veins was boiling. She was sure that at every step she took, the sidewalk beneath her feet would melt. Before she could think about what she was doing, she stepped forward and slapped his face as hard as she could. The blow sent him flying, slamming against a wall.

“How dare you! How dare you just appear out of nowhere and ask me how I am? How dare you be not all dead and burnt up and not contact me.” Every word was accompanied by a slap which he fended off easily.

She couldn’t see where she was hitting, the tears were running down her face now, blinding her. She hated him! Hated, loathed, despised him. Then two black leather clad arms were tight round her, holding her against his chest and a wordless murmur began as his lips brushed her hair.

Buffy allowed herself a few more moments to be held, safe in his arms, then pushed him away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself all over again. He didn’t love her, didn’t want to be with her. She had her pride, even if he’d left her nothing else. No life, no heart, no future. “Sorry!” she said. “I’ve had a bad day. Been travelling. All jet-laggy and emotiony. I’m pleased to see you, Spike. I heard you'd come back after the Hellmouth and were living in L.A. with Angel. How’s that been for you?”

The vampire stepped away, his arms dropping to his sides. His hands went back into his pockets, two clenched fists that he couldn’t relax. “Interesting. Sad. Tragic. We lost some good people. Apocalypse, the usual thing, you know. Big evil. Big battle. Hey, there was a massive dragon! That was a first. Well, not the First, but the first for us to fight. Liam killed it, but I sort of helped. I think he choked it with his hair gel!”

“Saved the world again, then, did you?” She busied herself tying back her hair, determined not to look at him again. His expression was too unsettling.

“Getting to be a habit, pet,” he drawled. “Reckon we’re safe for another couple of months before the next bloody disaster strikes. Angel’s gone back to his Tibetan hideaway with - well, the girl who used to be Fred.” His voice changed, became deeper. “Wesley’s dead. He left a lot of research papers for Giles, so thought I’d come over and deliver them. Stay with the Watcher. Have a word. Catch up on the news. Saw you leaving his posh pad and followed. I was sure you were aware of me back there a ways, then the muggers jumped you and I stood admiring the fight until - ”

“Until you thought I needed help.”

Spike shrugged. “Don’t knock it, luv. That was one mean knife that wanker had.“

“I’m sure I could have managed, but thank you, all the same,” she said politely, determined not to show him how upset she was. “Now, I’ve got to split. Nice to see you again, Spike. Glad everything’s worked out well. I’ll give your regards to Dawn, shall I? Remember Dawn? My sister? Tall girl, dark hair. Fond of you. Used to be a ball of green energy, but over all that now. Of course, it will be a little difficult to explain why you never bothered to contact her when you came back, but I’m sure she’ll understand when I explain about the important end-of-the-world scenario, big dragon, etc. etc.”

Spike shifted uncomfortably. “Didn’t think she’d want to hear from me. Or you, Slayer, if I’m honest.”

Buffy laughed and even to her ears it sounded too high, out of control. “Honest? When were you ever honest with me, Spike? What about, ‘I love you.’. No? Oh, then how about ‘ that was the best night of my life.’ What rubbish. What lies! No, please don’t say anything! It doesn’t matter anymore. Oh, great, there’s a cab!”

“Wait a minute. I’ve got a car. I’ll give you a lift. We need to talk, Buffy.”

Lifting her chin defiantly, she said, “I’d rather ride with the First. And talking to him would be far better than talking to you!”

She ran for the cab, then sat in the back as it headed into central London, shivering. She’d stopped crying; her eyes felt as though they’d been turned to stone. She didn’t think she’d ever cry again. She was bitterly angry with herself now. She’d thought a lot over the months about what would happen at their first meeting, had planned on being distant and dignified, showing him that he was of no importance to her. Instead she’d acted like a stupid, lovesick teenager.

“I should have punched him on the nose,” she muttered. “Not slapped him. Well, at least we’ve met and now that’s out of the way, we can both move on. I won’t go back to Giles’ tonight, not if he’s going to be there. I’ll book into a hotel.” She shuddered at the thought of him sleeping in the next room to her.

The streets around Trafalgar Square were packed with people, singing, laughing, shouting, all moving towards the square as the time ticked down to midnight. It was the place that Londoners traditionally went to celebrate the coming of the New Year.

Buffy let herself be pulled along by the crowd. She had no idea where she was going, or what was happening. Her fury had gone and along with it her desire to kill Spike. The cold realisation was sweeping over her that she’d made a dreadful mistake. All she could think of now was that he’d go away again and this was truly the only chance she’d ever have to tell him exactly what she was feeling. So what if he only felt sorry for her, told her that he just wanted to be friends? That would hurt dreadfully, but nothing could feel as bad as not telling him. Of not convincing him she was being truthful.

She turned and tried to retrace her steps, but the crush of people was too great. She felt herself being swept helplessly along, sure her feet weren’t even on the ground some of the time.  
Then there was Nelson’s Column with the Admiral himself standing high above them. The giant Christmas tree still blazed with lights, but the fountains in the Square had been turned off.

“LET ME PASS!” Buffy was trying to fight her way clear of the crowd, then suddenly she realised that she wasn’t fighting against soft human flesh. The arms holding her were like steel; the leather covering them dark and soft.

She was held effortlessly against his body, his grip tight, even cruel. “My turn to talk, Slayer,” his voice grated in her ear. 

He carved a way through the crowd, pulling her with him. His long stride took him out of the Square, under Admiralty Arch, into the Mall, the long road that lead down to Buckingham Palace. Seconds later they were standing under the trees in the park.

It was very dark, the grass damp under their feet, the noise of the celebrations sounding a long way away. Spike grasped her by her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “Now listen, Slayer. I’ve never bloody well lied to you about how I feel. It’s important that you know that. When I came back, I tried to come to you, to see you, but whatever force brought me back, wouldn’t let me. Then I got cold feet. You’d moved on. You were happy - people told me you were happy. What was I going to say? Hi, Buffy, remember me? Remember you said you loved me just as I was about to go up in flames, how about a shag?”

“You came to Rome - with Angel. You could have tried - ”

“Remember who you were with at the time? Couldn’t stand the bloke when I first met him, but hey, if he was your choice, then what right had I to butt in?”

“Every right, you - you - poop! That’s the whole point.” Buffy could feel the anger building again.

Spike’s lips twitched at her words, then the humour died out of his eyes and he drew her very close. “Every right?” he muttered, pushing the long blonde hair away from her face. “Do you mean that, Buffy? Don’t tease. This is too important. If you mean it...”

For a second the world hung, silent between them, then sonorously, the chimes of Big Ben began to toll nearby. The giant clock was about to strike midnight. It was the beginning of the new year.

Buffy stared into the face of the man she loved. She’d told him once and he hadn’t believed her. The time had come to stop letting pride, resentment and stupid anger get between them. “I love you, William,” she whispered and slid her arms round his neck, pulling his head down to hers. “I’m yours if you still want me, forever.”

Their kiss was slow and hesitant at first, as if they were two strangers, searching out the tender, sensitive places - then as the clock struck ten, eleven, twelve and the car horns sounded, and bells rang out across the nation, their kiss deepened.

Spike’s tongue twined possessively around hers as his hands thrust up under her jacket, under her jersey, searching for the soft flesh he had to feel. Like a man starving with hunger, he couldn’t get enough of her. They sank down onto the grass and as the new year began and the fireworks shot up into the night sky over London, they made love over and over again with a power and passion and tenderness that rocked them both into trembling silence. This was love - not sex, not lust. They were making love to each other, for each other.

It was nearly two in the morning when Buffy opened her eyes to find herself lying in a tangle with Spike, their clothes scattered under the bushes. She shivered as a cold breeze cut at her skin and he pulled his leather duster across them to keep her warm.

“Not getting dressed,” he growled. “Nor are you. OK?”

Buffy smiled. “OK,” she agreed. “Not getting dressed good idea. Going back to Giles’ place and sleeping in nice cosy bed also good idea.”

“Can’t move. You’ve finished me off,” Spike muttered thickly and she giggled. The months had fallen away and they were back together again and this time nothing was ever going to part them.

“New year, luv,” he said, shifting his arm so he could look down at her face. “Make a resolution. Hey, mine is, I get to tell Xander we’re together!”

Buffy growled and flipped him over so he lay on his back. She wriggled as close as she could get, glorying in the feel of his skin against hers. How could she ever have doubted how she felt? Why hadn’t she just listened to her body and her heart, not her brain.

She stared at the starlight that was reflected in his eyes. She couldn’t recall ever seeing anyone look as happy as Spike did now. And she couldn’t remember feeling this happy herself, ever.,,

Minutes later, the ducks and geese on the lake in the park quacked and hissed, then cowered down in the reeds as some disturbance in the air, thin and dark, trailing disease and pain, passed them. It paused, watching the Slayer and her lover, planning, plotting, making its own new year’s resolution. This partnership should never have come to pass. It had been forbidden. All sorts of powers had been evoked to make sure this love would never flourish. But it looked and knew - this love could ruin everything.

So it must be destroyed. They must be destroyed...both of them…because the Plague was coming and no one could be allowed to stop it.

 

to be continued


	2. Some Higher Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Giles and Willow learn some very disturbing news and a voice from the past makes itself heard.

Forever and a Day

by Lilachigh

 

Chapter 2 Some Higher Reason

Rupert Giles parked his little red MG sports car outside the block of apartments where he lived on the bank of the River Thames. He patted the scarlet bonnet lovingly, then glanced round, embarrassed that someone might have seen him. He cleared his throat and lifted his suitcase off the back seat: he was very fond of his new car. He’d ignored Willow’s whoops of laughter when she saw it. All right, perhaps it wasn’t a particularly sensible vehicle for a Watcher of his age to have. Perhaps he was a little old to enjoy quite so much the noise the engine made when he revved it, but after all the death and dying and destruction he’d lived through over the past few years, he thought he was entitled to a little fun!

Anyway, being small, it was far easier to park, he finished telling himself as the lift decanted him outside his penthouse apartment on the very top of the block.

He wondered how Willow and Buffy had spent the New Year. It was a shame he hadn’t been able to get back to London, but the demon nest in Norwich had proved more troublesome than he’d expected. In the week since January 1st, he’d tried phoning the apartment on several occasions, but only got the answerphone. He’d left text messages, then the battery on his mobile had run out and he realised he’d forgotten to pack the charger when he left London in such a hurry.

Willow’s car was missing from it’s parking slot. He imagined the girls were out shopping this morning. He knew exactly how much gossip they would have to catch up on.

His key turned silently in the lock and he stepped onto the thick carpet of the hallway. Then he froze. Why were all the curtains still drawn tightly across the windows at eleven in the morning? He moved slowly, cautiously into the living-room and stood, staring round, aghast. 

There had obviously been some sort of dreadful fight here. The sofa cushions were on the floor in heaps, the sheep-skin rug in front of the fireplace was lying in a heap as if someone had been rolled in it; the TV was still on, but with the sound turned down, candles had burnt out, candlesticks had been knocked over, the coffee table was on its side and he could smell blood!

Giles spun round suddenly, the skin on the back of his neck tightening. He knew, without knowing why, that he wasn’t alone in the apartment. Old friends of his would have noticed that his Ripper expression appeared as he lifted an ancient Persian sword from the wall. Creeping down the long passageway, he checked off the rooms as he went. Kitchen - empty, but someone had been there recently - it looked as if Buffy and Willow had shared a bottle of champagne to celebrate the New Year.

His bedroom - empty and untouched. Willow’s, empty. He reached the far end of the passage where the guest rooms lay. Reached out and softly pushed open the door. It wasn’t locked. He took a deep breath - blood, he could smell it quite clearly - raised the sword and charged through the entrance.

Two bodies lay naked on top of the covers, limbs entwined. It was hard to see where one ended and the other began. Giles found it almost impossible for his brain to compute what he was seeing - Buffy naked - oh god, don’t look - Buffy dead - no, her breath was stirring the tangles of blonde hair that hung across her face - a naked man, long pale limbs, blood smeared across his mouth - the best champagne flutes that Dawn had sent him for Christmas on the bedside table - one half full of champagne, the other half full of blood.

And the naked man - as the great sword dropped to the floor, a platinum head was raised from Buffy‘s naked breast - don’t look! don’t look! - and someone who was Spike’s double winked at him!

Giles was pouring himself a third slug of whisky when the living-room door opened and Buffy and Spike came in. Spike, clad just in jeans, barefoot, was carrying the sword that Giles had left lying on their bedroom floor. Buffy was wearing a red silk shirt that reached her knees. Giles knew only too well whom that belonged to.

“Rupert. Good to see you. This is yours, I believe,“ Spike said politely, proffering the sword, hilt first.

Giles took it and made a great fuss about putting it back on the wall. “Yes, thank you, Spike. Well, it’s - it’s interesting to see you alive and obviously well. Buffy?“

Buffy sat on the sofa and looked at him, her eyes very green. “Giles, don’t be cross. I’m sorry you had to - well - had to see - but nothing you can say is going to make any difference to us. I’ve found Spike again. I thought I’d lost him forever. But we’ve been given another chance. Rightly or wrongly, we belong together.“

Giles took off his glasses and polished them on the end of his tie. He’d been sitting, thinking, concocting elaborate little speeches about her duties as a Slayer, how untrustworthy William the Bloody was, soul or no soul, saviour of the world or not. But faced with the two of them, sitting hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder in front of him, the words ebbed away out of his brain. “Buffy - Spike - I think you’re both – “ He took a deep breath. “I think what you’re doing goes against all nature as we know it. But – “ He shrugged helplessly. “There seems to be an inevitable symmetry about your meeting again, especially at this time of the year. Perhaps - I don’t know - perhaps there is some higher reason for you two to be together - a reason I can’t see, a reason we might not ever understand.“

Spike smiled wryly. “Blimey, Rupert, why do all you public school boys take ten sentences to say something simple. I love Buffy, Buffy loves me. End of story.“

Giles pulled a face and said sarcastically. “From what I recall of your history, Spike, you were a public school boy, too. So don’t knock it!”

Buffy grinned and ran her fingers through Spike’s already dishevelled hair. “Spike! Did you go to Eton? Did you wear a top hat and one of those big white collars? Did you bully people and have to fag for the prefects - which, believe me, I never really understood in English class for a long time until Willow told me fag had a different meaning then, so – ”

“Enough, missy!” Spike yelped. “Come out of the pages of Tom Brown’s Schooldays, will you.”

She smiled. “Seriously, Giles, I’m sorry if Spike and me being together upsets you, but perhaps, as you say, there is a reason. Let’s face it, we’ve gone through more trials and tribulations than most couples.”

Spike disengaged himself gently and walked across to where a long black bag was half hidden under the dining-table. He opened it and took out several large leather covered books. “Rupert – ” He turned hesitantly towards the watcher, his expression suddenly serious. “Wesley – ” He stopped.

Giles sunk down in a chair and sipped his Scotch. “Wesley is dead. I know. I heard on the grapevine up in Norwich.”

Spike’s eyes went very dark. “Can’t say we were ever close, but he fought a good fight. Left these books behind. Thought you’d better have them. Angel’s off in Tibet and - well, there’s no one in L.A. who can make head or tail of them.”

Giles sighed. “Thank you, Spike. That was - that is very thoughtful of you. We’re desperately short of reference material since the Watchers’ Council was blown up by the First. These look - valuable.”

“And very dirty!” Buffy grimaced, running her finger along the leather spine. “Oh, icky, Spike. Is this blood? No, it can’t be, can it. It’s glue. How on earth did Wesley manage to spill glue on his precious volumes? Or was it you?”

Spike shrugged. “Not guilty, pet. Hang on a sec - Rupert, look!”

Spike pulled at the edge of the heavy brown cover on the topmost book and before Giles could stop him, the whole front of the book peeled away. “What the bloody hell?” Spike frowned. There was a carefully folded piece of paper hidden inside the leather covering. “Hey, Rupert - this is weird. It‘s addressed to you.”

Giles took the paper. Spike was right. His name was scrawled across the outside in handwriting he knew well. Wesley Wyndham-Price had written that - and in a great hurry by the slight tearing of the paper. “But how on earth did he know you would bring the books to me?” he murmured.

“Wes obviously had more faith in me than you did, Watcher,” Spike said, regaining his place on the sofa and wrapping his arm tightly round Buffy’s waist.

“What does it say?” she asked.

Giles frowned as he read. “Well, it seems to be, let me see, a list of places, dates, times - and – ” he paused, put the paper down and stared sightlessly into space.

“Giles!”

He started. “Sorry, Buffy. I’ll read what Wesley wrote. 

‘ Dear Rupert, listen carefully, not much time left here. Probably won’t survive. Don’t really want to. What we’re fighting will probably end the world so you won’t get this, but if we succeed and anyone comes through it will be Spike. The devil looks after his own! I’ve been working on this research for a year now. Thought it was just a tarradiddle of mythology and fairy stories, but I think I could be wrong. If that’s the case, then I’m glad I won’t be alive to see it happen. There’s a plague coming, Rupert. And it’s going to destroy the world.’ “

“A plague!” Buffy and Spike spoke together, exchanging startled glances. “What sort of plague?“ Buffy asked.

Rupert Giles stared down at Wesley’s last words and shook his head. “He doesn’t say.”

“Is that all of the message?” Spike cast a sharp look at Giles’s expression. He knew the Englishman too well not to know when he was being evasive. 

Giles was still finding it difficult to accept the vampire and the slayer being a couple. Spike‘s possessive hand on Buffy’s waist, her hand curved round the bend of his knee, shook him to his very core, but perhaps, if there was some great new danger around, then this partnership was for a purpose. “Yes. Here, look for yourself.” He handed over the paper and watched as the two blond heads bent over it.

“But Giles, this is different to anything we’ve encountered before,” Buffy said finally. “A plague? Does he mean all boily and pustules and painting crosses on doors.”

“The Black Death,” Giles replied.

Spike raised an eyebrow at her. “Crosses on doors - not my favourite scene, sweetheart, but before my time. Stopped vampires getting inside the house, I’d bet, even if it didn’t stop the plague.”

Buffy frowned. “But that’s medical, Giles. Not magical. If there was a plague, then the doctors would find a vaccine or something to stop it from spreading. It wouldn’t be treated by a spell, or a Slayer finding someone to kill. This doesn’t make any sense. Do you think - ” she hesitated, then - “do you think perhaps Wesley was over reacting, because of all the L.A. trouble?”

Giles polished his glasses on the end of his tie. “Wesley Wyndham-Price may have been many things, Buffy, but he never over-reacted where research was concerned. To him a fact was just a fact, not good or bad or horrific, just a fact.”

Spike ran his hand up to caress Buffy’s neck and she arched against his fingers like a petted cat. “Doesn’t have to be boils, pet, could be a plague of spiders, or flies or rancid walking hot dogs.”

“Oh gross! What about the list of places and dates, Giles, does that help?”

Her ex-watcher picked up the paper and shook his head. “He seems to have been tracking something across the world for the past six hundred years. But he doesn’t say what. I imagine the answer is inside these books, somewhere. This is going to take some serious research to uncover.”

“Did I hear the word research? Buffy! Hi! Oh my god - it’s Spike.” 

Buffy leapt up, beaming. There in the doorway, wearing a bright yellow jacket and tartan scarf, eyes sparkling, her red hair cut and layered very short, was Willow.

* * * *

A weak January sun was shining on the Thames, turning it into a river of gold silk. The office towers of Docklands glittered as the sun was reflected from their myriad windows. Buffy and Willow were sitting on the balcony of Giles’ apartment, drinking coffee. Spike had gone back to bed, complaining of jet lag to the others and whispering ‘shag lag’ in Buffy’s ear and grinning as she went red.

Buffy pulled her coat tighter round her against the chill wind. “I suppose you think Spike and me being together is odd.”

Willow smiled. "It was quite obvious before he died in Sunnydale how you felt about each other, Buff. Love just happens. Look at me and Oz. Me and Tara.”

“You and Kennedy?”

Willow shrugged. “Kennedy’s good for me. But do I love her? I love the type of girl she is, her strength of mind, her determination. I mean, I’ve left her down in Wales now sorting out the vampire problem we’ve got there. She’s quite capable of doing it on her own. But do I love her?” She shrugged.

There was a long pause. “I like your hair,” Buffy said at last. She knew better than most that sometimes it was impossible to put into words exactly how you felt about a person.

Willow grinned. “I’ve slashed mine and you’ve grown yours even longer.”

Buffy smiled. “I haven’t cut it since Spike died. Silly, I know, but he loved it being long and it seemed like a little thing I could do in his memory.”

“I expect he’s glad.”

Buffy smiled and turned to gaze at the river, hiding her expression. She couldn’t tell Willow of Spike’s face when he’d tangled his hands in her hair, wrapping it round his fists, smoothing it over her breasts, letting it fall round their faces until they were hidden in a net of blonde tangles, alone, safe, together again at last. She could never tell her of the joy she’d heard in his voice when he’d said, “Oh god, Goldilocks. I thought I’d never see you again.”

Willow swallowed the rest of her coffee. “Right, time to get down to work. Research, here I come.”

Buffy wandered indoors again and watched as the witch sat down at her desk with Wesley’s books in front of her and switched on her computer. She peered round the door into the darkened bedroom, and grinned at the sight of a naked Spike sprawled across the bed, his face buried in the pillows. She was tempted to wriggle in next to him, but knew Giles and Willow would be shocked, and she didn’t want to spoil their tentative acceptance of him and her by pushing it too far, too fast. This was their home and she had to remember that.

“So, research girl, what’s the news?” she said, going back to perch on the edge of Willow’s desk.

“It’s difficult - Wesley made a list of places and dates - some of them are mentioned in this book he sent.”

“And that’s where the plague is mentioned?”

Giles broke in. “No - these books aren’t about demons or vampires at all. They’re very old accounts of journeys undertaken by a noble family called Elliott from the middle ages right up to the last century. Every generation, one of the family would go exploring and write an account of it when he got back to England.”

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t understand, Giles. Are these the fairy tales Wesley is speaking about in his note?”

Willow’s fingers were flashing over the keys of her computer. “This is weird, Giles, I can see why Wesley thought it was all fairy tales when he read the books. But if he was able to get access to some of these sites, I can see why he was changing his mind. But he obviously didn’t have the time to take it further before he - before the end.”

“He had a lot on his mind, Red,’” Spike spoke from where he was leaning in the doorway, barefoot. “We were under enormous pressure in L.A. Bloody hell, the bloke’s gone up in my estimation that he even managed to write to Giles about it.”

“So Willow, what does it mean?” Giles said anxiously. “Is it a plague? Like the Black Death?”

Willow frowned. “No, it’s - it’s weird. Listen - I’ll read you this extract from Lord Eliott’s diary in the 1500s. He was in Turkey, I think, but it might have been Greece. He’s not clear. I’ll put it in ordinary English, not as he wrote it. ‘Reached next village and found it the same as last twenty. What are we going to do with all the children? My servants very alarmed. Wish to go home. But the children, the children....’ “

The others looked at each other. “So some illness had obviously struck that area and taken the adults,” Giles said.

“Yes, then again in the 1600’s, another Lord Elliott is travelling in Italy. “We have now passed thirty or forty villages, all the same. We are surrounded by starving children. There is little food, no crops in the fields. Where will they go? Last night one of my coachmen was slaughtered by pack of wild boys who ran back into the forest with his body. I fear they are cannibals. I plan to leave first thing tomorrow.”

Buffy shuddered. “A plague that only kills adults! And did Wesley think it was coming this way, to England?”

“The last entry is by a Henry Elliott in 1900. “Mama and I horrified by what we have seen while travelling in the French countryside. Hundreds and hundreds of children. They die like flies but we cannot help them. I fear it is coming our way. Thank god for the good English Channel and the stout cliffs of Dover.”

“And now another hundred years have passed,’”Spike said slowly. “So whatever was travelling across Europe, Wesley thinks will reach here soon.”

Buffy walked over to him and he wrapped his arms round her. “Looks like we’ve got a job on our hands, luv,” he said softly.

Buffy nodded gravely. This was like old times - trouble coming their way, she and Spike facing the Big Bad. But this time they were together. It was comforting.

Giles watched them out of the corner of his eye. One hand was plunged deep in the pocket of his tweed jacket, fingering the second scrap of paper he’d removed from inside the cover of Wesley’s book. Obviously written as a very hasty afterthought, Giles had kept it hidden and secret.

‘Giles -” it said, the writing blurred and blotched - “ Discovered that vampires are immune! They don’t die. Be on your guard at all times.”

to be continued


	3. Miles to go......

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Buffy and Spike get closer and colder

Forever and a Day by Lilachigh

Chp 3 Miles to go….

 

The A3 road south from London was as busy as usual on a wet Friday January evening. Spike braked and cursed violently as an elderly gentleman who probably never drove from weekend till weekend, pulled his little car out in front of theirs at a steady twenty miles an hour. Which was a pity as they were travelling at sixty!

Buffy glanced at her lover and smiled slowly. She was still finding it odd that when she looked for him, he was there. All these months she’d played a little game with herself.  
‘I’ll walk round that corner and he’ll be standing in a doorway.’ ‘If I don’t step on any cracks on the way home, he’ll phone me.’ ‘If I let Dawn have that last piece of cake, God will send him back to me.’

Well, she’d often eaten the cake, had stepped on plenty of cracks, but still, there he was, sitting beside her, driving, swearing, thumping the steering wheel in time to an old rock band playing on the radio. So maybe God had been listening, after all. OK, this was far removed from the place Willow had pulled her out of all those months ago, but it was a pretty good heaven of its own. “Don’t think I’m complaining in any way, but it would be good to get there in one piece,” she commented. “Boring, probably, in your eyes, but good.“

Spike grinned. “Are Giles and Willow keeping up with us?”

Buffy swivelled round to peer out of the rear window. There was no sign of Giles’ red car. “Nope! I think you lost them when you decided to break all the speed restrictions as we came past Guildford!”

Spike shrugged. “It was the sight of that gold cross on the top of the cathedral, pet. Still vampire, you know. Crosses make me nervous. Bloody hell!” He stamped on the brakes again then accelerated and rolled down his window to yell at another car as they zoomed past.

Buffy moaned theatrically. The dark night outside filled the car with cold air. There was the smell of snow and frost. Winter still had a tight grip on the land.

Spike pulled the car into the slow lane and reached over to pat her knee. “Sorry, pet. Just enjoying myself driving in England. Got used to you colonials using the wrong side of the road, of course, over the years, but it’s great to get back to the right way of doing it!“

Buffy picked up his hand and kissed it swiftly. Even a silly little gesture like that turned her stomach with happiness. She stared at his palm. There wasn’t a blemish on it and he’d told her in graphic detail all that had happened to his hands since their goodbyes in Sunnydale.

The breath he didn’t need hissed between Spike’s lips as her warm mouth rubbed against his skin. He was having to concentrate now on the road and she giggled as she licked each of his fingers in turn, nibbling at the tips of them. She listened to the groan that broke from him and bent over to examine the interesting sight of his jeans tightening across his crotch.

“Don’t you dare!” he muttered thickly. “Keep your bloody seat belt on, Slayer.”

Buffy leant back in her seat and carefully placed his hand over her breast. It closed lovingly for a second, then reluctantly went back to the wheel.

“Tease!” 

“Coward!”

He glanced across at her, then, at the expression on her face, he swerved the car off the road onto a parking layby and turned off the engine. “What’s the matter, luv? You looked as if you were about to cry.”

She smiled at him. “Jeez, stupid vamp! I just can’t quite believe we’re together again. It’s like a dream. I keep pinching myself to make sure I’m not asleep.”

Spike switched off the radio, undid both their seat belts and pulled her into his arms. She expected him to kiss her passionately, to possess her ruthlessly, completely, his hands and mouth hard and fast. But he didn’t. He held her, his face buried in her hair, for a very long time. It had started to snow, gentle flakes that glided down onto the glistening road. The inside of the car was quiet and peaceful, and as Buffy rested her face against the smooth cotton of his T-shirt, she realised that this was what she’d needed more than anything.

Sex between them was magnificent and overwhelming and always would be, but this silent togetherness, holding, being, belonging, was what her soul craved. And from the tension that slowly began to ebb from his body, it was obvious that Spike felt the same way.

After half an hour, they reluctantly drew apart and without a word, drove on. “Tell me again why we’re heading in this direction,” Spike said at last.

“Willow and Giles worked out some sort of glow chart, or something,” Buffy said. “Whatever they called it, what it really amounts to is a map of Europe with all the sightings from the Elliott diaries marked on it. Apparently that shows that whatever is coming - this plaguey thing - has been travelling in a straight line for centuries. And so it’s due to show itself around the town of Emsworth in Hampshire. Or along that part of the coast, at least.”

“And we’ll be there to meet it. Sounds like fun, pet. Although quite how you know a plague has arrived, beats me. What’s Red going to do? Have us wave bottles of disinfectant around every time the wind blows? How do you fight something you can’t see?”

“We’ll find a way. We always do. Giles and Willow make quite a team on the thinking front, and hey, you and me together, can you think of anything we can’t defeat?”

Spike grinned. “Well, when you put it like that, Slayer - ”

Buffy was peering at her map. “Hang on, I think we turn off to the right at the next junction,” she interrupted.

Spike glanced down. “Not unless you want us to eventually end up in Cornwall, sweetheart,“ he said dryly. ‘Your map’s upside down!”

“Oh! Well, duh! Yes, I know it is, but that’s how I read maps. I never get lost,” Buffy said loftily. “You ask anyone, Dawn, Xander, Giles, map reading is so one thing I’m really, really good at....”

An hour later, Buffy realised with a sinking heart that she was going to have to deal with a very dangerous situation. One that was going to take all her cunning, skill and diplomacy. She knew she might have to revert to blackmail, even offer physical favours to contain the situation. She was confronted by a hungry, angry male and had no sensible solution to the problem.

They were completely and utterly lost and it was her fault! “If you say, ‘I told you so’, one more time, I swear I will stake you!”

Spike glared down at the woman he had loved deeply up until half an hour ago when they’d driven down an English country road in the dark for the third time only to find themselves back at the same junction. With enormous patience - the type that made Buffy want to smack him - he said, very slowly as if he was talking to a small child, “Bloody hell, we’ve driven down this road three times, Buffy. There is nowhere else to go. We are lost. Forsaken. Adrift in the middle of Hampshire without even a flask of blood to keep out the hunger pangs. It is bitterly cold, it’s snowing hard, it’s dark and I need a drink.”

Buffy rolled down her window and peered out at the sign as a flurry of snow hurled itself into her lap. “Stupid country,” she muttered under her breath, “It says Emsworth on that arm of the signy thing and it’s pointing down the hill.”

Spike thumped the steering wheel. “And we’ve driven down that hill three times, Slayer!”

“I wanted to ask that man we saw, but you wouldn’t let me. Remember?” Buffy shivered. The heater in the car wasn’t working and the snow was falling faster now. Her coat, that had seemed so smart and warm in Rome, didn’t seem to be keeping the English winter out very well.

Spike’s anger disappeared as if it had never been. ‘“You’re cold,” he said and wrapped his arm round her, pulling her into his embrace.

“And you’re going to make me warmer?” she sniggered, running her hands under his leather coat to where the cool cotton T-shirt was smoother under her palms. 

“There are ways,”’ he muttered, “but I’d be happier if we were indoors before I showed you them.”

“I’m sorry I got us lost,” Buffy admitted. “You were right; the map was upside down.”

Spike grinned. “Hey, a first. The Slayer admits to being wrong. Wish I had a bloody tape recorder. OK, my turn, well, if I’d stopped and asked the way right at the beginning of our detour, we might be there by now. I bet Giles and Willow are in their hotel, toasting their toes in front of a roaring fire.”

“They’ll wonder where we are. They’ll be worried.”

Spike laughed and hugged her tighter, drifting his lips across her blonde head. “No, Buffy. Willow will think we stopped to get - er - reacquainted, shall we say.”

Buffy smiled to herself. Reacquainted. What a marvellous word. She still felt weird and woozy when she let herself realise Spike was alive. That he was here, she was touching him, holding him, feeling the strength and power of those arms holding her safe.

“OK, Slayer, on we go. Before the snow buries us completely. I don’t like the look of this storm. It’s getting worse. I don’t want us out in it much longer. So this time we’ll turn left and head up the hill, away from what the signpost says. You know, before the Second World War, the country people round here changed all the signposts round to confuse the Germans if they invaded. I don’t think some of them have ever been put back correctly!”

He started the car and they drove up the hill into the driving snow. Slipping and sliding on the ice, the car crested the rise and began the perilous descent on the other side. Spike was beginning to get worried. This little car had no chains, no heater and the snow was getting worse by the second. OK, he hadn’t been back in England for a very long time, but he remembered how bad their occasional winter storms could be and how completely surprised and unprepared people were when it happened. If the car broke down out here in the depths of the countryside, it could be very nasty. He needed to get Buffy into shelter and fast. But even in the middle of his worries, he could feel the joy singing through his blood. He was back with Buffy. They were together. Nothing could stop the happiness he felt right now.

“Spike - look, a light!” Buffy pointed out through the windscreen where the wipers were failing now to cope with the thick wet snow.

Spike peered out and eased off the gas, coaxing the little car down the final slope, heading for the dancing golden light. “God, Slayer, I’d forgotten the one thing you can always rely on in England. Even in the wildest parts, you’ll find a pub.”

“Look out!” Buffy’s yell came too late. The passenger wheels broke through a coating of snow and ice and thumped into a deep ditch. The car tilted over to Buffy’s side and Spike was thrown hard against her.

“Bleeding hell. Buffy, you OK?” He managed to push open his door which was slanted above him. He scrambled out, his boots sinking into the snow, then reached down to help her unclip her seat belt and half pulled, half dragged her out of the car.

She looked dazed and rubbed at a cut on the side of her head where blood was trickling down. Spike leant forward and licked at it without thinking. Slayer blood! The power roared through him and he swung her up in his arms and ploughed through the snow towards the light. He could see now that the pub was very old; small, timbered and thatched, with the sign hanging outside creaking violently as the storm raged. The light they’d seen from the top of the hill was a single candle burning in the window. Spike put Buffy down gently. “How do you feel?”

Teeth chattering she said, “O-o-ookay, I think. Can we get inside?”

Spike tried the door but it was locked. He pounded on the nail studded oak that had been old when Charles I had been executed. “Hey! Is anyone there? Let us in!”

“No lights,” Buffy said, stamping her frozen feet in the thin fashionable boots that were already soaked through.

“Power lines must have gone down in the storm,” Spike said and thundered on the door again. “It’s a public house. There must be someone there. It’s way past opening time.”

Buffy swayed as a gust of snow hit her with all the venom of a striking snake. She couldn’t remember ever being so cold before. “Should we go back and shelter in the car?” she yelled above the wind.

Spike licked his fist. He’d hit the door so hard, one of the nail heads had pierced his skin leaving it bloody. He knew the car would give her no protection from the freezing cold. He would be fine but he knew if Buffy was out in this all night, she’d be lying frozen to death in his arms by morning and there would be nothing he could do to stop it. 

He crashed his bloody fist on the door again and suddenly there was the sound of a bolt being drawn, the large metal handle turned and the door opened. A small girl of about eleven stood there, holding the candle. She was wearing jeans and a green woollen jersey that was far too big for her. Big round spectacles made her look like a rather sweet sleepy owl.

“Hi, sweetheart. Can we come in? Cold out here. Are your parents around?”

"OK, come in." The girl moved back into the pub and Spike and Buffy followed, groaning with delight to get out of the storm. She banged the door shut behind them, then lifted the candle high. “We’ve no lights,” she said.

“Can see that, pet,” said Spike, grabbing Buffy’s hands and chaffing them roughly to get the circulation going. “You’re not on your own, surely?”

“No, Jack’s here, too.”

“Mum and Dad out shopping and cut off by the snow, I reckon,” Spike muttered to Buffy. “What’s your name, pet?”

“Mandy.” She put the candlestick down on a table and with swift, sure actions, struck matches and lit three more candles.

They were standing in the pub bar; a low ceiling, darkened by years of cigarette smoke, was crossed by heavy black oak beams that still showed the slashes from the axe that cut them hundreds of years before. The light gleamed off a highly polished copper bar cover and brass coal scuttle and fire ornaments either side of a huge brick fireplace.

Buffy threw off her coat and kicked off her boots. “Hi Mandy, I’m Buffy and this is Spike. Our car came to grief just a few yards down the road. It’s in a ditch. Can we use your phone to ring for a tow?”

Mandy shook her head, her eyes round behind her glasses. “The land line’s not working and my mobile’s got a flat battery. Can’t charge it without electricity. Sorry. Shall I light the fire for you?”

Spike perched on one of the bar stools. “That would be great, pet. And don’t worry. We’re perfectly harmless. Do you think your Dad would mind if I helped myself to some whisky? I’ll put the money in the till.”

“Spike!” Buffy hissed, then stopped, suddenly silent. The door to the back of the pub had opened and a small boy of about nine or ten with bright red hair stood there.

“Go away!” he said angrily. “Go away now. We don’t want you here.” And his words were given a lot of weight by the shotgun he held precariously in both hands.

Buffy froze: she could see that his finger was on the trigger, but the weight of the weapon was too much for him and it was wavering from side to side. 

“Slow down,” Spike said, not moving. “We’re quite harmless. Just orphans of the storm. This is Buffy and my name’s Spike.”

“Go away!” the boy said again and Buffy flinched as his finger trembled on the trigger.

“Jack - put the gun down.” It was the girl, Mandy, who spoke. “They can’t go anywhere. Their car’s wrecked. They have to stay.”

His frightened gaze flashed across to her and slowly, inch by inch, he lowered the shotgun. When it was pointing to the floor, Spike moved with vampire speed, twisted it out of his grasp, unloaded it, put the cartridges in his pocket and laid the gun on the bar.

The boy had moved to the girl who put her arm round him, protectively. “This is Jack,” she said at last. “Don’t be angry with him. He was just trying to protect me.”

Buffy smiled at them. “Hey, we can understand that. It’s what we do. Try and protect people. Do you think your folks would mind if we rented a room for the night? We can’t do anything with the car until the snow stops.”

The children looked at each other, a silent question and answer passing between them. “Okay, I suppose,” Mandy said at last, pushing at the big round spectacles that kept sliding down her nose. “The best guest room is at the top of the stairs. Would you like something to eat?”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Spike said swiftly. “Perhaps you could light the fire, like you suggested earlier. We need to dry our clothes. ”

Mandy nodded and knelt in front of the big log fire, striking matches, coaxing it into life. Jack just stood, saying nothing, just staring at them. Buffy shivered. There was something odd about the child, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. He looked okay; perhaps he was freaked out by the storm without his parents. This was a very lonely spot. Perhaps they didn’t have that many visitors. Well, there was no way they could get to Emsworth and find Giles and Willow tonight. Their plans to hunt for signs of the plague that was heading for England would have to wait until the morning.

She followed Spike up the stairs into a small bedroom. Most of it was taken up with a monstrous bedstead, set high off the floor, brass gleaming from the headboard. Buffy giggled. “Wow! And wow again. That looks as if it should be in a museum.”

Spike prowled round, opening doors. “At least we’ve got our own bathroom,” he said. “Get your clothes off.”

Buffy put her hands on her hips and stared at him, head on one side. “Oh, you romantic fool,” she said. “How could a girl resist an advance like that?”

Spike turned and grinned, the scarred eyebrow lifting over his cobalt blue gaze. “I meant, get out of those soaking wet things before you go down with pneumonia, Slayer,” he purred. “But of course, if you have other ideas....”

Sitting on the floor, Buffy kicked off her wet boots, groaning as the feeling began to flood back into her frozen toes. “Spike, I’ve no feeling in most parts of my body. Nooky will have to wait.”

The vampire flung himself onto the bed, crushing the patchwork quilt. He’d flung off his leather coat and stretched luxuriously. “Nooky, what a great word, pet. You been reading slushy novels while I’ve been away dead?”

A second later, the air whoofed out of his lungs as an icy limbed Slayer landed full on top of him. He wrapped his arms round her, only too aware that all she was now wearing was a black lace thong and a scrap of silk he supposed was a bra.

“God, Slayer, you’re colder than I am,” he muttered as her icy lips closed on his. He shut his eyes as they kissed. At least her tongue was warm and as it slid slowly across his own, teasing and beckoning, he groaned deep in his throat.

He tangled his fingers in her damp hair and let the sensations of her body lying on top of his, swirl round his mind. This was what he’d wanted, needed, desired. Just kissing and holding her made him feel more than alive.

Eventually she broke the kiss and gazed into his eyes. “Do you sometimes wonder if we’re dreaming this - this being together again? This is what happened night after night when you were gone. Then the alarm clock would ring, or Dawn would bang on the door and I’d wake up and you’d be gone.” She shuddered, not just from the cold and pushed herself even closer to him. She had the dreadful sensation that if she let him go, he would vanish and she’d be left holding nothing but her wildest desires. “I don’t think I could bear it if I woke up from this, Spike.”

He stroked her hair gently back from her face, worried by the intensity of her tone. “Well, I reckon the odds on us having the same dream are pretty high, pet. And in my dreams you didn’t have cold feet. Ouch!” He yelled as she raised her knee in a non too kindly movement. “That could be called cutting off your nose to spite your face, luv. I need all of that to keep you satisfied.”

He rolled over so she was underneath him and nibbled with blunt teeth at the black silk of her bra, then, just as her thighs rose from the bed to clasp his there was a knock on the door and Mandy’s voice said, “Shall I light the fire in your room?”

Spike stared down into the green eyes beneath him, eyes that were glazed with passion and a mouth that was now trembling with amusement. “Think we’re lighting our own fire, thanks,” he muttered, then rolled off his lover and struggled to find where he’d thrown his jeans.

Buffy wrapped herself in the quilt and sat, crossed legged, rocking with silent laughter as he hopped round the room, trying to pull the soaking wet denim up his legs. She watched as he at last opened the door, spoke briefly to the young girl and then shut it again. She frowned as he stood, silently, not returning to her. “What’s up?”

“Do you feel there’s something odd about those children?”

Buffy hugged the quilt even closer. “Well, the shotgun episode wasn’t the best welcome I’ve ever had in my life, but they’re on their own and we’re strangers. Mandy seems OK. A bit old-fashioned, but - ”

Spike opened the door a fraction and listened. “There’s more voices downstairs now,” he said. 

Buffy jumped off the bed and joined him. “Their parents back? That would be great.”

Spike shook his head. “Sounds like more kids to me.”

“That’s silly. It can’t be. Why on earth would children be out in this storm? Go down and see while I get dressed.”

Spike threw a wicked grin at her nakedness then padded away, cat like on bare feet to the top of the stairs.

Buffy closed the door and pulled on her clothes, grimacing at their clammy dampness. She was attempting to braid her hair to get it under control when the door opened and Spike came in. She was about to speak when he held up a hand, urging her to be quiet. She watched gravely as he locked the door behind him, then held out what seemed to be a framed picture to her.

“What - ? ”’

In two strides he was at her side, his hand covering her mouth. With his lips close to her ear he whispered, “Just look at this, Buffy. It was on a ledge on the landing. The pub’s full of children. And I’m beginning to see why.”

Buffy took the photo frame and turned it to face her. It was a colour shot of a man and a woman, sitting in the pub bar, laughing at the camera, holding tankards of beer.  
The woman was slim and dark, wearing big round spectacles that made her look like a sleepy owl. The man was broad shouldered, good-looking and had a shock of bright red hair. There was no mistaking who they were. It was a photo of Mandy and Jack. An adult Mandy and Jack.

 

to be continued.


	4. Just Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Buffy and Spike make an alarming discovery

Forever and a Day by Lilachigh

 

Chapter 4: Just children

 

Buffy stared at the photo, her mind whirling. The man and the woman were adult versions of Mandy and Jack. “That is weird, Spike,” she whispered, “but OK, children can look like their parents. It’s not that unusual.”

“Yes, there‘s often a resemblance, and sometimes kids grow up to look like their mothers and fathers, but these two are identical. Even down to the mole on the boy’s neck. There’s something not right going on here, pet. I can sense it.”

Buffy grinned cheerfully. “Perhaps they’ve shrunk! Yes, that’s it, Spike, we’ve discovered an amazing shrinking spell. Hey, perhaps we can market it. It would beat any diet on the market.”

But to her surprise, Spike didn’t laugh. He bent to the fireplace and flicked a match to the kindling. Buffy found towels in the tiny bathroom and sat down in front of the flickering flames to try and dry her hair and her soaking wet clothes. “So, no shrinking spell,” she said at last as the vampire crossed to the window and rubbed at the condensation on the tiny panes.

“There’s more children coming in this direction through the snow,” he said shortly. “Would you let your kids out in this blizzard?”

Buffy gave her hair a final rub and joined him at the window. Sure enough, small shapes were fighting their way through the snow, their heads bent against the wind. “Spike, I don’t understand - all these children - ”

“They’re not children, Buffy. Well, they are, but I think - ” He turned to look at her, his eyes so dark they were almost midnight blue. “I reckon they’re adults that have been turned back into children!”

Buffy stared at him, memories flashing into her brain. “Spike, do you remember the extracts from the Elliott journals that Giles and Willow read out to us. The one from the 1500s, saying ‘what shall we do with all the children’ and the other one from the 1600s when the guy in Italy said there were empty villages surrounded by starving children who slaughtered one of his coachmen?”

Spike nodded slowly, his black brows drawn in a tight frown. “You mean, the plague that’s been travelling across Europe, coming closer to England every year is just - making children? Doesn’t sound that horrendous. Not enough to alert Wesley and freak out Giles when he read about it in those old journals.”

“But if it happened to enough people, then what would happen?”

Spike sat down on the bed and stared up at her. “Well, I suppose in the old days, no bloody food would have been grown because there‘d have been no one to plough and harvest. No education, the houses would have fallen into disrepair and I suppose if they never aged - ”

“No new generations. Human life would be wiped out.”

“But it hasn’t been, Buffy. Bloody hell, life’s gone on and on. This sort of plague might have been a disaster in one small area of Greece in the Middle Ages, but what is it going to achieve in good old England today?”

“You’re forgetting the last entry in the Elliott journals, Henry Elliott in 1900.” Buffy screwed up here face as she remembered the words. “ ‘Mama and I horrified by what we have seen while travelling in the French countryside. Hundreds and hundreds of children. They die like flies but we cannot help them. I fear it is coming our way. Thank God for the good English Channel and the stout cliffs of Dover.’ “

She shuddered. “Just think of it, Spike. Hundreds and hundreds of adults who’d become children but they don’t grow up, they just die as they get older. The numbers have increased every time. What if now, today, it’s thousands and thousands?”

“Then there would be mass panic. You’d have an army run by eight year olds. God, Buffy, you’d have nine year old politicians with their fingers on the nuclear buttons. And with all the TV and instant communications, the world would go mad.” Spike rubbed his hand across his head, ruffling the peroxide hair into a riot of curls. “You know, pet, there’s not many times when I wish your Watcher was in the same room as us and a bed, but I’d give a year’s supply of Scotch to have him here now!”

Buffy pulled on her boots, wincing as the hard wet leather cut at her feet and calves. “Well, he isn’t, we’re on our own, Spike. And I reckon we should go down and have a word with Mandy and Jack.”

“And say what exactly? Hey, are you really your parents and do you know you’re going to die at any moment? Don’t reckon we’ll be the most popular couple in England if we start making remarks like that. And Jack might well have another shotgun stashed away somewhere.”

“So we're going to die?” Buffy and Spike whirled round. Mandy stood in the doorway, her eyes dark and sad behind her round spectacles.

Spike snarled and flashed into game face for a second or two, then reverted to human. Now wasn’t the time. Mandy was just a child after all and although he’d killed too many people in his long, bloody existence, he couldn’t remember too many kids.

Buffy stood up and held out her hand to the young girl. “Mandy - are you - look, we found this photo. These people - they’re you and Jack, aren’t they?”

Mandy swayed slightly and gripped the door handle for support. “Jack’s my brother,” she whispered. “We run - we ran - this pub together. Then - this happened.”

Buffy reached out and pulled her into the room, shutting the door behind her. She sat her down in a chair and knelt in front of her, holding her shoulders tightly to stop her shaking. “Now listen, Mandy. We’ll help you. Just tell us. When did it happen?”

Mandy was shuddering now, tears running down her face. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand in a childish gesture that tore at Buffy’s heart.

“About a week ago,” she replied. “It was terrifying. There was a thick fog in the evening. Really bad. No traffic along the road, only people from the village coming in for a drink or something to eat. I felt fine. I wasn’t ill. I didn’t even have a headache. Then - when I woke up the next morning....” 

She stopped as sobs shook her, then went on, “I swung my legs out of bed, and they didn’t reach the floor! I’ve never been so scared in my life. I screamed, Jack rushed in from his room and - and he was a little boy! He screamed when he saw me and when I got to a mirror I saw why.”

“Did you go for help?”

“Yes, of course. We ran next door - and that was when we realised - ”

“That everyone in the village had been turned to children,” Spike broke in.

“Yes.” Mandy took a deep breath. “And all the real children were so scared – they freaked out and ran away. At first it seemed like a nightmare. One or two older people just lost control. They vanished into the mist, yelling and shouting. We haven’t seen them since. And people who’d had children were frantic with worry. They started to vanish into the fog, too, hunting for their families.”

“But you and Jack decided to stay here,” Buffy said quietly, stroking the girl’s dark hair.

“It seemed the only thing to do. Jack was sure it was some sort of virus. Perhaps some disease that escaped from a laboratory somewhere. He reckoned that when the mist lifted, the authorities would arrive and give us an antidote.”

“But no one has come?”

Mandy shook her head. “We rang the local police station direct – no one answered the 999 call. Bob Baines is our policeman. He answered - he was screaming. He sounded about five years old! We haven’t seen him. And nothing has changed. We’re still children and now you say we’re going to die!”

“Mandy, listen, we need you to be strong. Spike and I will sort this out. We have some very clever friends. A girl called Willow Rosenberg who's an expert at all this type of thing. As soon as we can get to her and tell her what’s happened, she’ll find a way of reversing the spell, or whatever it is.”

The round spectacles had slipped down Mandy’s nose. She pushed them back up in a gesture that reminded Buffy painfully of Giles. If only he was here. If only they hadn’t got separated on the road down to Emsworth.

“Right, as soon as the blizzard stops, we’ll get back to the car and head out to find Giles and Willow,” she said, glad to have some sort of plan to put into place. She glanced at Spike, but he was standing by the window again, peering through the tiny diamond shaped panes, absorbed with what little he could see in the dark world outside.

“More and more children heading this way,” he said briefly, and then tilted his head to one side, listening. “And there’s a lot of shouting going on downstairs, pet. I’m beginning to think we might have a problem on our hands.”

Just then the door flew open and red-headed Jack erupted into the bedroom. He slammed the door shut and stood with his back pressed against it. “Go away!” he shouted. “Get out. They want to kill you both. I can’t stop them. They’re coming to destroy you. Right now!”’

 

to be continued


	5. Take a Walk with Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an escape is planned and Spike's actions cause huge future problems

Forever and a Day by Lilachigh

Chapter 5 Take a walk with Me

 

Jack, the man/boy’s anguished words echoed round the old-fashioned bedroom. “You must go away,” he repeated. “They’re coming to kill you and I don’t know how to stop them.”

“Who’s coming to kill us?” Buffy snapped.

“Neighbours, friends, people who were adults only a few days ago and now they’re children, like me and Mandy.”

Spike left the window and crossed the room to his side in two long strides. “Listen, Jack, why do they want to kill us?”

“They’re scared. You’re strangers. They think they’ve been infected by something from outer space or a bunch of terrorists. A virus, a disease. They don’t know. None of us know. And they’re hungry, too. There’s been no way of getting any food and we’ve eaten all the tinned stuff we had and what was in our freezers.”

Buffy glanced at Spike. She could feel a shudder running across her body that had nothing to do with the cold air. Whatever this plague was, it was certainly succeeding. Changing people and then driving them out of their minds. She had a sudden vision of what might happen if that pack of adult kids attacked them. She could never hurt something that looked and sounded like a child. And Spike - she caught his gaze over Mandy’s head. Would Spike kill a child if it attacked him? Would he kill a child if it attacked her? She had a nasty feeling the answer to the second question would be ‘yes’.

The shouting from downstairs was getting louder. Obviously the mob were gathering up their courage to attack. “Listen kids - sorry - Mandy and Jack,” Spike said, running his long fingers through hair that was now a dishevelled cap of tiny platinum curls. “You must have a cellar in a pub this old.”

Mandy nodded, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. “Yes, of course we do: it’s where the beer barrels are stored.”

“Is there a way down there without going back into the pub bar?”

Jack’s face lit up. “Yes! There’s a cupboard in my bedroom and at the back of it there’s a door that leads onto steps down to the cellar. My Dad used it all the time to save walking through a crowded pub.”

“Cupboard?” Buffy questioned.

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Closet to you, pet. Remind me to buy you an Anglo American dictionary for your birthday.”

Buffy stuck out her tongue at him. Even when the world was falling apart around them, it was still so marvellous to have him back, snarking at her, that there was a part of her that knew she could never be wholly unhappy again.

Jack led the way down a narrow passage into a room at the back of the building. True to his word, behind the clothes hanging from a rail in the closet was a small door. It swung open to reveal a flight of steep stone steps leading down in darkness.

“I’ll go first,” Spike said.

“Hurry,” Jack begged. “I can hear them coming up the stairs. When they find you’re gone, they’ll start searching.”

Spike vanished down the steps. Buffy gestured to Mandy to follow, but the girl shook her head. “No. We can’t go. They’ll suspect something’s up if we’re not here.”

“And we need to lock the door from this side and hide the key,” Jack said urgently.

Buffy stared down at them. Two young faces, smeared with dirt and tears. She could only imagine what terror they were experiencing, the horror this plague had brought into their lives. She didn’t want to leave them. 

Mandy reached out and shook her arm. “You have to go. As soon as it’s safe, I’ll come down and get you. But it won’t be for some time. I know we look like children, but we’re still adults inside. And the men will want to drink themselves senseless. We have to let them.”

Buffy bent swiftly to give the child a hug. “Take care of yourselves.” And she swung herself down the steps as the little door banged shut behind her and she heard the key turning in the lock.

Feeling for each step, she eased her way down the stairs. There was no light at all. It was completely dark and icy cold. She yelped in startled surprise when a hand grabbed her shoulder. “Spike!”

“Get a grip, Slayer. Who else did you think was down here?”

Buffy shuddered. “There could be a whole army of vamps circling for the kill for all I can see. Not being big with the vampire vision, you know.”

There was a chuckle from her side and the hand slid firmly round her waist, guiding her down the last few steps. Then she heard a clink and click and a yellow flame flared from Spike’s lighter.

Buffy winced and blinked as her eyes got used to seeing again. Spike gave a grunt of satisfaction; he’d found two half burnt candles on a shelf and the flickering light seemed as good as mid-day after the complete dark.

Buffy stared around. The cellar was formed from rough cast stone, painted white. The low ceiling bulged from age and the air was heavy with the smell of yeast and hops from the huge beer barrels that were ranged along one wall, their pipes running up and disappearing through the ceiling into the bar above. “I can’t hear a thing,” she murmured, listening intently for sounds of pursuit.

“Shouldn’t reckon you could,” Spike said. “Soddin’ walls must be a good two or three feet thick. They built to last four hundred years ago, Slayer.”

She shivered violently and he turned a worried face in her direction. “Cold, sweetheart? You didn’t get your clothes properly dry from all that snow, did you?” 

“Don’t worry. I’ll survive.” She tried to keep her voice as light and cheerful as possible, but she was bitterly cold. Her bones ached and every muscle in her body was yelling at her to crawl into a nice warm bed, pull the covers over her head and go to sleep. Sitting down with her back to a wall, she clasped her arms round her knees. “Spike, we’ve got to get to Giles and Willow. They must know what’s going on. If anyone can help, it will be them.”

“A plague that turns adults into kids! That’s foul. I’ve seen a lot of evil things in my time. Done most of them, too, if I’m honest. But this takes the prize. I reckon even Angelus would have been proud of this one.”

Buffy listened to him, but couldn’t find the words to reply.

Spike paced up and down, leather coat swinging. He hated being cooped up in a small space with no way out. “God, can’t believe I’m in a pub with all this beer and can’t get a bloody drink,” he grumbled.

“Spike. Concentrate,” she forced herself to say . “Beer bad. Makes your breath smell.” 

He threw himself down next to her and draped an arm affectionately around her shoulders. With a groan she leant against him. If only she didn’t feel so cold, so ill. What on earth was wrong with her? Suddenly, one of the candles flickered and went out and just then, a thought flashed through her brain. She was human. What was to stop her from being infected with the Plague? Was that what was happening to her? Would she go to sleep and wake up tomorrow as a ten year old Buffy? Oh God, no. Please no.

“Get some sleep, pet. They might be hours coming to unlock the door. We’ll head out to find Giles in the morning.”

Sleep! No, the last thing she wanted was to go to sleep. Buffy struggled free from his encircling arms and pushed herself to her feet with what seemed like the very last of her strength. She couldn’t tell Spike what she feared was happening. It was so unfair. They had been back together for such a short time. “I think we need to get out now,” she said hoarsely. “This is too urgent, Spike. We can’t just lie around down here until morning. And anyway, I can’t stand that beery smell all night long.”

Spike stared at her, puzzled, then got to his feet, too. “OK, pet, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” He turned his head, then picked up the remaining candle and held it up in the air, gazing at the flame then flickered and bent in his direction. “Thought as much. There’s air coming in from somewhere, Slayer. I reckon there’s a tunnel down here, leading out of the cellar.” He handed her the candle and began lifting the beer barrels away from the wall. One of the pipes broke and beer cascaded down in a foamy mess over the stone floor.

Buffy was struggling to stay upright; her head was swimming and her eyes felt blurred. Steeling herself, she called up every ounce of Slayer strength she could find and held the candle as steady as she could.

“There! I was right - a tunnel. Might have guessed. Stands to reason. An inn this old, so close to the sea. I bet smugglers used to bring brandy and port right up from the coast, straight into the cellar.”

Buffy walked forward and pushed the candle into the black tunnel entrance. The flame danced in orange and yellow and with her eyes blurring, it looked as if a hundred golden stars were circling in the air around her.

“Home sweet home,” Spike said suddenly and, as ill as she felt, Buffy smiled at the resignation in his voice. “You, me and another tunnel,” he continued, then sighed. “You know, pet, one day I’m going to retire and write a best seller called Tunnels I have known and Loved. Should make my fortune with the demon community.”

“Where do you think it comes out?” Buffy whispered, scared of trying to speak normally in case he heard how hoarse her voice sounded.

“Somewhere on the coast. There’s a lot of marsh land around here. Right, are you ready, Slayer to take a little walk with me in the dark. Promise I won’t bite! Much.”  
And he turned with a wicked grin, holding out his hand to her.

But as the candle fell from her hand, the last thing she saw was the horror that appeared in the eyes she loved so much.

The world felt cold and dark and very big. It hurt to open her eyes and she was scared of what she would see if she did. There was the sensation of falling, head over heels, down a deep, dark well, into icy black, getting smaller and smaller…

“Drink, Buffy! Drink, Slayer. Come on; drink, for God’s sake. Fight it, pet. Don’t let it take you away from me.”

She could hear the voice; it was scared, too, desperate, terrified. There was something cold pressing hard against her mouth. She struggled to get away, find Mommy, tell her the bad man had her and wanted her to do things -

“Drink, Buffy! Trust me, damn you. Just drink.” The man was roaring in her ears now and she hated being told off, hated it when her mom and dad yelled at each other. Why was he yelling? Had she been naughty? She didn’t remember, but her dad often said she’d done things she knew she couldn’t have done because she was only a little girl…

There was cold flesh against her mouth, forcing her lips apart. Someone was pinching her nose so she had to open her mouth to breath and liquid filled her mouth and she gagged, then swallowed, again and again. The pinching stopped but she couldn’t stop drinking. Whatever it was was cold and smooth and thick and salty. 

Slowly the falling sensation stopped and she felt the world swirl and solidify around her. Her eyes flickered open and her vision was filled with Spike’s face, twisted and drawn in terror and despair. She gasped and struggled for breath and with a jolt he removed his bare arm from across her mouth. As she blinked herself conscious, she realised there was a deep cut across the inside of his forearm and blood was still trickling from it, dripping from the ends of his fingers.

“What – Spike – god, what have you done?”

For answer he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight, rocking her backwards and forwards. She could feel him trembling, trying to gain control. At last he slackened his grasp a little and she sat up straighter and glanced around. The passage had ended in a small cave. To one side a jumble of boulders and rocks let in enough light to show they led to the outside world. A bitter wind howled through the gaps and even as Buffy watched, snow sifted in through the cracks.She turned Spike’s arm over and, without thinking twice, licked at the blood that oozed now from the cut. 

“Don’t!”

She looked up at him and whispered, “I don’t expect a couple of licks is going to harm me now, Spike. Am I – did you have to -?”

His voice was horrified. “I didn’t turn you. Surely you know I wouldn’t do that – unless…. But you had to have my blood. It was all I could think of to bring you back.”

“The Plague?” She shuddered.

The vampire nodded. “I’ve seen some creepy things in all my years, sweetheart, but that was weird. You were unconscious and getting younger and younger by the minute. You were shrinking, Buffy, getting smaller, but you were still you.”

“I could feel myself falling away,” she muttered. “Gross! You brought me back.” She stared into his eyes, all the love they shared clear for both of them to see. There was no need, she realised, to say thank you. They were long past the need for those sorts of words. “So why didn’t I revert completely to being a child?”

Spike shrugged and wrapped his leather coat round her shoulders to fight off the icy wind blowing into the cave. He knew he was fussing, but it was something to do with his hands. He was trying to be matter of fact about the whole plague thing, but knew that watching the woman he loved reverting to childhood had been the most frightening thing he’d ever experienced in his undead life.

“Slayer blood, I reckon. Slowed down the process. Gave me time to think. It wasn’t touching me, whatever it was, so I reckoned if I could get you to drink a couple of mouthfuls of whatever runs in my vampire veins, perhaps it would sodding well help. And it did. But I don’t mind admitting it, luv, I was scared rotten. I thought I’d lost you. I could see you becoming a child and I had no idea what to do if you did.”

“It happened so fast,” she said. “No warning, just felt ill. Then, wham! ” She started to ask what other effects he thought his blood would have on her, then changed her mind. Whatever happened, she was alive and herself. She would cope with anything else when she had to. Suddenly she clutched at his arm. “Spike, do you reckon the same thing has happened to Giles and Willow?”

“No idea, pet. I don’t reckon they’d have any natural immunity, but I’m banking on Red coming up with some mojo of her own to ward it off.”

“If she has time,” Buffy said desperately. “Will they guess what’s happening to them? Spike, I don’t think I could bear to meet a ten-year-old Rupert Giles! I’d freak.”

“Face that when we have to,” Spike said, pulling down his shirtsleeve to hide the cut that was already starting to scab over. “Luckily, there’s no sign of the Bugsy Malone crowd following us. I reckon Jack and Mandy have put them off our track. Getting out of here is going to be half the battle. Still snowing.”

“I must find Willow. I need to know how to fight this thing. I haven’t got a clue at the moment. Geez, how do I fight something I can’t see or hear? Even the First fought through humans and the uber vamps. This thing is just mist.”

“But it’s not alive. We would sense it if it was. It’s just mist that carries the plague. So someone, something, is making it. Right?”

“When did you become the logic king?” Buffy smiled. “But you’re right. So, okay, we’ll find it, stop it and kill it.”

“That’s my girl!”

Buffy started to reply with a quick remark, then stopped, the words dying on her lips. Yes, she was his girl. There was no denying that now. But it was all so fragile. The last few hours had proved that. In seconds everything could be ripped away from them again. This time Spike could have lost her for good. Or been left with an eight year old little me, she thought suddenly. She shuddered. Perhaps turning would have been the better option.

Spike stood up, took a step towards the entrance, swayed and sat down again abruptly.

“Idiot!” Buffy snapped. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. I should know. It’s all in my stomach. I feel as if I’ll never need to eat again.”

Spike growled. “Five minutes and then I’ll move those boulders and we can see where we are.” He wrapped his arms round her and drew her close. He bent his head to kiss her, then stopped when he saw her expression. “Why the big frown, pet? We’ve faced end of the world before and come out smiling. And now we’ve got all the slayerettes on our side.”

“This is different, Spike. Oh the girls can fight demons and vampires. I’ve got no doubt about that. But this? Just think about it. What would you have done if I’d reverted to a child? Killed me? Adopted me? What do children think when their parents appear in front of them the same age as them? People will go mad. Geez, I said it myself. OK, I was half joking about a mini Giles, but when I think about it carefully, I simply don’t think I could cope. I freaked when he became a demon for a day. But a little boy!”

“We’ve both killed people we know and love when they’ve been turned.”

“But these children aren’t demons! They’re ordinary people who’ve become children. Innocents. Is that what I’ve got to do? I couldn’t call it slaying. If I kill just one, it will be murder.”

They sat in silence for a while, his hand stroking her hair, her arms wrapped round his waist. Then, “But it’s not just the killing innocents bit, is it, pet? This is me you’re talking to, remember? You’ve got your ‘I’m all alone,’ face on. I didn’t think I’d see that again – not after – ”

Buffy’s arms tightened again and Spike winced, knowing that an ordinary guy would have had cracked ribs by now. “Part of me is giving thanks every minute of every day that I’ve got you back. I know I’ll never be alone again – while we’re together. But just one second could smash us apart again.”

“Every couple thinks like that, pet.”

“But we’ve never had a chance to be a couple!” Buffy said. “I want us to be – ”

“If you say normal, as weak as I feel, I will put you over my knee and spank your arse, Slayer! You are not normal. I am not normal. We are never going to have a normal life. Get over it!”

Buffy giggled. “I was going to say happy, but hey, your plan sounds like fun!”

Spike growled. “Great, you’re up for fun and games and I’m still recovering. Guess my blood has perked you up a little bit too much. Listen, pet. We may have one day together, one day or one year. Who knows? And if the worst happens and one of us is left, then I can’t even begin to think of how the other will cope. But listen, Slayer, even with the thought of that pain to come, I wouldn’t swop one second of being with you now.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but his lips and tongue stopped her. The kiss was long and languid to begin with, then the passion ignited into a blaze that refused to be denied.

She was aching again when she floated back to reality, but this time it was a good ache in all the right places. She was wrapped tightly in Spike’s arms, and grinned as she realised he still had both his hands on her butt. She wasn’t sure whether he was about to spank her or just protecting her naked flesh from the cold air.

“Wind’s dropped, pet,” he murmured, kissing her. “We need to get out of here while we can.”

Buffy pulled up her jeans. “So romantic,” she grumbled. “One day I’m going to insist we go away on a proper holiday. Lie around all day, do nothing.”

“Nothing?” The scarred eyebrow rose suggestively as he rolled over and got to his feet.

“Nothing!” she said firmly. “Just exist. Make love and not have to rush and get dressed because the next great evil thing is glooping towards us.”

“Glooping?” Spike grinned and shook his head. What his girl could do to the English language never failed to fascinate him. He prowled over to the heap of stones and boulders that filled the exit and began to heave them out of the way. He kicked out at a stubborn rock that refused to budge and then as it fell outwards, he turned, startled and stared at Buffy. She froze. There had been no mistaking that sound. The rock had fallen into water.

The peered out through the gap Spike had made and Buffy felt her stomach churn. Snow was blowing in straight from the sea. There was nothing in front of her but the ocean and, even as she watched, waves driven by the wind began to lap at the entrance and slide malevolently into the cave around their feet.

 

To be continued


	6. It must be Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Buffy realises her life has changed forever....

Forever and a Day by Lilachigh

 

Chp 6 It must be Tuesday

 

Buffy groaned at the sight of the sea flooding into the cave. She remembered that this tunnel was probably the way the smugglers had brought their contraband French brandy and tobacco up from their boats to the various inns around this part of the Hampshire coast. At low tide the cave entrance was probably easy to see, but at high tide – “We’ll have to swim for it,” she said quietly.

Spike frowned and glanced around, desperate for another way out. He knew he couldn’t drown and the icy water wouldn’t bother him, but for Buffy to try and swim in her weakened state when the temperature was only just on freezing! He knew she would never survive. He stared out through the entrance but all he could see was a wide expanse of grey, sullen water. But from the maps they’d studied in London, he was pretty sure Emsworth was on a sort of estuary, where the English Channel cut into the land like great teeth, eating away to make inlets and streams. “You’ll die in that water, Slayer. You stay here and I’ll go find a boat,” he said, kicking off his boots. 

“Can you really swim?” Buffy stared at him, fascinated.

“Don’t mock the vampire,” he growled, pulling her close and giving her a bruising kiss. “I can swim. I can’t drown, so it’s always struck me as a bit bloody boring. I like a touch of danger in my hobbies – you know, coming to Sunnydale, falling in love with a Slayer, having sex with the Slayer, dying to save the soddin’ world! Swimming doesn’t have the same appeal.”

Buffy stared out of the cave entrance. The waves were running in faster now, driven by a chill wind. The sky was a dark grey, threatening more snow.   
Spike clambered over the rocks, wincing as the sharp edges cut into his bare feet.

She started to tell him to take care, then stopped. They were past words like that. Green eyes met sapphire and all they thought was there for both of them to see.

“Don’t lose my boots, Slayer,” he grumbled. “See you soon!” And he leapt out of the cave, into the swirling waves – and landed on both feet with the water lapping at his knees!

Buffy couldn‘t help it. She knew they were in dire trouble, knew that once again the fate of the world seemed to be relying on her to sort it out, but the offended astonishment on her lover‘s face was so priceless. She fell on the cave floor and laughed until she was moaning with the pain in her rib cage.

Spike said nothing but his expression said everything. She knew she was in big trouble but was still giggling when he held out his hand and she took it, holding his boots in the other and paddled out towards him. The laughter soon vanished as the icy water bit into her feet and legs. “Where are we?” she shivered as Spike’s arm wrapped round her shoulders and helped her wade through the shallow water. “Why is it so shallow?”

“I think it’s a sort of marshy bit of land that only gets covered at high tide, pet. Probably years ago, when the tunnel was made through the cliffs, the sea came in far more. But the estuary has silted up a lot since then. We need to get past this soddin’ rock wall and then we should be able to walk inland again.”

Buffy gritted her teeth and matched him stride for stride, trying to forget that she could no longer feel her feet under her. Dark green weeds clung foully around their legs and they had to stop every few yards and scrape it off. But eventually they found themselves splashing through stony, shallow water that led right up to where a thick thorny hedge reared up from a muddy bank.

“Jeez, I don’t believe it,” Buffy muttered, staring over the top of the hedge. On the other side was a graveyard! They pushed their way through the hedge and collapsed on a wooden bench on the other side, groaning with relief to at least be out of the wind. “Another graveyard – it must be Tuesday,” she said. “We come all this way across the world and end up together in another cemetery!” she said, her teeth chattering.

“We need to get you dry, pet,” Spike said wearily. “Your lips have gone blue.” He pulled on his boots and gazed around. “Church over there. Never my favourite places and probably be as cold as charity inside, but at least it’ll be out of the wind. And I think it’s going to snow again.”

“Spike, we can’t waste time resting. We’ve got to find Willow and Giles. They must know what we’ve discovered about the plague. They might have some idea how to fight it. And I have to know that they’re OK. ”

In reply, Spike picked her up and carried her protesting past the neat little graves, out of the kissing gate and down to the church itself. “We rest for half an hour, Slayer,” he said firmly, pushing the nail studded oak door open with his foot. He carried her inside and put her down on a long wooden pew. It was dark inside and compared to outside, it felt almost warm. For a long second, Buffy let herself sit with her eyes shut. She knew she would never admit to Spike how scared she’d been when the plague hit her. She still shuddered to think what she would be like now if Spike hadn’t forced his blood into her mouth. An adult trapped inside a child’s body. Going slowly mad, hoping Spike would kill her and put her out of her misery.

She opened her eyes as she heard the scrape of a match. Spike had found candles and was lighting as many as he could. Buffy stared up at the ancient rafters, stones that had been laid together while her country lay undiscovered by the western world. You would have thought somewhere as old as this would give some protection against a plague sent by some evil entity no one could see, but she could tell from the scattered hymn books and graffiti drawn on the walls that even a church hadn’t escaped the growing madness. As she looked, she realised she could hear sounds coming from the vestry behind the altar. “Spike,” she muttered. “I don’t think we’re here on our own, do you?”

The vampire grunted. “Scented them when I came in, pet. As long as they stay back there and don’t bother us, that's fine by me.”

Buffy shuddered. She could hear a shrill giggling, a scrabbling as if lots of little feet were running across the stone floor. She knew, without seeing them, that it was more ‘children’. She leant back against Spike and wondered if he remembered the last time they’d been in a church together – him burning himself on a cross, trying to make things right with her. “Do you think we’ll ever get the chance to spend a couple of days together without some apocalypse hanging over our heads?” she said softly at last.

She felt rather than heard the laughter rumble in his chest. “Doubt it, pet. I know you’ve got all the Slayerettes now, but wherever you go, trouble finds you.”

“I used to call Xander a demon magnet. D’you reckon I’m a sort of evil magnet?”

“Could be. What have you done with Harris, anyway?”

“He’s in Cleveland with Faith and Robin.”

“Am I the only one to find that a deeply disturbing sentence, Slayer?”

Buffy punched his thigh hard. “Eeeuuuww. I do not want that picture in my mind, thank you. You know there’s another Hellmouth there. A very small one at the moment, but the three of them are keeping it in check. Xander has a very nice girl friend, anyway. ”

“Didn’t take long to get over Anya, then?”

Buffy sat up straight and retied her hair in a tighter ponytail. “We all have different ways of dealing with grief, Spike. Life goes on. As a matter of fact, he’s dating Reagan, Kennedy’s half sister, who is not a Slayer, likes boys and is very sweet.”

“If you tell me she has a brother called Nixon, I will throw up,” Spike said, then leapt to his feet as a shrill scream rang out. “What the hell was that?”

Buffy pulled a stake from her belt. “It sounded like a child.”

Spike picked up a candleholder and with the flames guttering in the cold air, they raced up the aisle, and behind the altar to where the small vestry lay. Buffy flung open the door and Spike thrust the candles inside the room. The shadows leapt and danced, black and smoky, but there was enough light to see two vamps holding two small boys by their shoulders, just about to feast off them.

“Right guys, why don’t you put those snacks down and vanish back into the sewers like good little vamps,” Buffy said.

“Who the hell are you?” The first vamp looked powerful, heavy-set. The hands holding the terrified child were brutal in their strength.

Spike flashed into game face. “Just do what the lady says, mate.”

“Fuck off! This is our evening meal. We’ve had a hard enough job finding something to eat today. Snow’s kept them all indoors. But we’re not mean. You pay us, you can share.”

“You can share this!” Spike snapped and suddenly a stake flew from his hand to plunge the vamp into dust. With a roar, the other one dropped his prisoner and flung himself at Buffy. But it was a brief fight and ended in another cloud of dust floating in the air.

The two boys were cowering together at the far side of the room. “We won’t hurt you,” Buffy said gently. “Are you…I mean have you…do you know how old you are?”

The biggest boy was thin and pale and wore little gold-rimmed spectacles. “I’m the Reverend Stephen Naylor,” he squeaked in a voice that sounded as if it hadn’t broken yet. “This is my chief chorister, Mr Darren Todd. I’m sure you won’t believe me, but – ”

“Oh, don’t worry, we believe you,” Buffy broke in hastily. This was so bad. She didn’t know what to say to them. 

“Excuse me, you’re an American, aren’t you? I can tell from the accent. Would you be a Miss Buffy Summers?” the vicar asked, nervously edging away from Spike.

Buffy gasped. “Yes, I am. Why?”

“We were sent to find you,” Darren said. “A Mr Giles and a Miss Rosenberg – ”

“Willow!”

“I believe that is the lady’s first name. Anyway, they are both in the vicarage. They took shelter there during the storm,” the young vicar said pompously. “We’ve been looking for you for hours.”

Buffy felt a wave of relief wash over her. Giles and Willow. At last they could start to fight this Plague. 

“And are they OK?” Spike asked suddenly nervous. “I mean, are they adults?”

“Oh, yes,” the Reverend said. “They’re barricaded in my study and Miss Rosenberg has put some sort of shimmering shield all around the room. That’s why they couldn’t come to find you themselves. You have to come with us. Mr Giles told me to tell you, time’s running out. We have to act immediately.”

“Lead on,” Buffy said, thinking that the young vicar could save a lot of time by using fewer words. “We’re right behind you.”

The Reverend Naylor stopped and shook his smooth gilt head. “Oh no, Miss Summers. The vampire can’t come with us. Mr Giles made that quite clear to me. His explicit instructions were that you were to come on your own. He insisted that ‘Spike’, isn’t it, stay as far away as possible!’ 

Buffy and Spike were silent as they fought their way through the snowy graveyard to reach the path that led to the old vicarage. The two little boys who had once been the vicar and his chief chorister padded nervously behind them, staying as far away from Spike as they could. Buffy didn’t need to speak to the vampire to know he was angry and hurt. Why on earth had Giles sent a message saying Spike mustn’t come with her? He knew they were together now – okay, maybe he hadn’t been jumping with joy at the idea, but in London he’d seemed to accept having Spike on their side even if he wasn’t happy about the whole deal.

“Perhaps I’d better stay out here, pet,” Spike said as they crunched their way through the snow. “If Giles is throwing a hissy fit – ”

“Don’t be stupid,” Buffy snapped. “The boys, men, boymen, whatever you call them, must have got the message wrong. Why should Giles suddenly exclude you? It doesn’t make sense. You’ll see, it’ll all be some big mistake. I’m only glad he and Willow seem to be OK. Giles turning into an eight year old – that I couldn’t cope with.” She stopped as she reached the front door of the vicarage. The shimmering magical exclusion barrier that rose and fell around the house was obviously Willow’s work. Even as Buffy thought that, the door opened and Giles and the witch stood there.

“Thank God you’re all right, Buffy!” Giles looked pale and strained and Willow didn’t look much better. Her eyes seemed far too big for her face and Buffy could sense that she’d been using a lot of magic; her skin had that odd, grey look that came with fighting to control her powers and a spot of blood under her nose told its own story.

“Buffy! You’re okay! You’re you – I mean you’re not a little girl. Oh, I’m so pleased to see you.”

“Giles! Will! Look, can we come in. It’s freezing out here and I need to get out of these wet clothes before I become one big walking Buffy shaped iceberg.”

There was a pause, then Giles said, his voice very clipped and British, “You can come in, of course, Buffy. But not Spike. I’m sorry, but we’ll only lower the barricade if Spike moves back, away from the house.”

“Giles, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry, Buffy. But you must tell Spike to go away. He isn’t coming in here.”

“Willow? This is stupid. Drop the barrier and let us in. We’re freezing.”

The witch bit her lip and wiped at the blood seeping from her nose. “I’m sorry, Buffy. Spike has to stay outside.”

Buffy turned to Spike, to find he was backing away down the path, his face blank and expressionless. “Don’t worry, Slayer. I’ll be around. Get dry and warm. Take care of yourself.”

“Spike! Don’t – ” but he’d gone, swallowed up in the mist.

She spun back to shout at Willow just as the barrier gave a silver shimmer and disappeared. She walked into the house, the two little boys almost stepping on her heels in their eagerness to be indoors, and heard the whoosh as the magic was put into motion once again.

Willow and Giles had retreated across the hallway into a large room where a miserable fire smouldered in the open grate. Buffy marched in and stood, hands on hips, facing them “What the hell is going on, Giles? What’s with all the ‘send Spike away’ crap? God, haven’t we got enough to deal with without you getting on your high horse about me and Spike being together? Do have any idea what’s going on out there?”

Rupert Giles looked over the top of his glasses at the girl who had once meant so much to him. He wondered if they’d ever truly recovered from that time in Sunnydale when he’d tried to engineer Robin killing Spike? Oh, they paid lip service to being friends. They’d fought the First together, watched their friends die together. But were they friends now? No, he’d cut that precious link and to this day he still wasn’t sure if he’d done it out of a desire to save the world, or a desire to restore the Watcher/Slayer relationship that had been his only reason for living for so long.

“Buffy – Willow and I know quite well that you and Spike are together now. But – “ He took off his glasses and polished them on the end of his tie. He glanced across at Willow, as if appealing for her help.

“Buffy – that isn’t Spike!” the witch blurted out.

Buffy stared at her, wondering for an instant if they were both drunk. Or if the Plague was infecting their brains. “Well he certainly isn’t the Easter Bunny or Brad Pitt,” she said. “Looks like Spike, smells like Spike, and believe me when we – ” She stopped at the appalled look on Giles’ face. “Well, just believe me, Giles, it’s Spike!”

“No, it isn’t. That’s why we couldn’t let him in here. And why you mustn’t go near him again.”

Buffy felt all the hot words she longed to say boil up inside her. But she thrust them back and forced herself to sit down. “Giles, just tell me in words of one syllable, what the hell you’re both talking about.”

“Don’t you want to get out of those wet clothes first?” Willow broke in.

Buffy stared up at her. “No, Will. I don’t. All I want is an explanation as to why the man I love is walking around out in the snow and mist and not in here with us.”

Giles took a deep breath. “Wesley sent a second message. Just a torn scrap of paper with a few words. He said that we had to be on our guard at all times because vampires were immune to the Plague.“

Buffy frowned. “Okay, vamps are immune. No biggie. They can’t drown or catch measles either. They’re still vulnerable to the usual ways of dying.”

Willow shook her head. “That’s just the problem, Buffy. When Giles showed me Wesley’s message, I decided to do some more research. I found the section in Wesley’s books about the vampires being immune, but it was written in a very obscure Italian dialect.”

Buffy was getting impatient. “So difficult words…lots of problems… ancient text…god, Will, deja-vu much? ”

The witch turned to Giles. “Willow decided to translate the whole chapter again. We think it must have been one of the very last things Wesley did before he died. He was obviously under intense pressure, both physically and emotionally. His translation isn’t entirely correct.”

“Vampires aren’t immune to the plague, Buffy. Well, they are, but not as in ‘can’t catch it’. They don’t catch it because they carry it! And when they have it, they change.”

Buffy stared at them in disbelief. “Change into what? Fluffy bunnies, their Sunday best, vegetarians?”

“We don’t know. But all we have gathered is that it’s something incredibly dangerous and so you mustn’t have anything else to do with Spike. I know it’s hard, Buffy, but you have to break your connection with him at once. Not just for your sake, but for the whole world.”

There was a long silence after Giles finished speaking. A log fell in the grate and the wind whistled through a badly fitting window frame. From somewhere deep inside the vicarage came the high-pitched giggling of the vicar and his friend.

Then Buffy laughed. She stood up, gazing down at their startled faces. “I don’t know what this plague is, or what it does to vampires. But I can tell you both this, I love Spike. Spike loves me. Nothing – repeat, nothing – is going to come between us again. So the whole world will just have to deal with it.”

“Buffy!” Willow flung out an imploring hand.

“No, Will. Don’t say any more. I’m going to find him.”

“You’ll die!” Giles snapped. “He’s dangerous. Deadly and dangerous.”

Buffy’s eyes sparkled as little flames licked round the broken log. She walked to the door, then turned back. “He always has been!”

To be continued


	7. Never Leave Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Buffy and Spike make decisions

Forever and a Day by Lilachigh

Chp 7 Never Leave Me

 

Spike strode through the mist along a rough, snow covered track that cut across the fields towards the road. Savagely, he thrust his hands into his coat pockets, wishing that there were something in front of him he could punch. The urge for violence was growing with every passing minute. He’d always known, deep in his heart, that Wanker Giles and the Witch were only paying lip service to his being Buffy’s lover. For fuck’s sake, the Watcher had tried to get Robin Wood to kill him! No love lost there, that was for sure.

It had all been too good to be true. He found himself snarling into game face. Oh yes, live in a dream world why don’t you, Spikey boy! Come back to find her, lots of loving and tears and sex and a future together dangled in front of him, like some sodding Gem of Amarra. And just like that it could all be wiped out, destroyed because her friends said so. He’d seen the expression on her face – just for a split second before she began her automatic protests. She’d looked scared; she’d looked as if whatever they said, she’d believe it.

And why shouldn’t she? He reached a stile and vaulted over it, cursing as his hand caught in a thorn bush, then stopping to lick the blood as it trickled down his wrist. After all, their relationship had lurched from one crisis to another, never giving them time to establish a true foundation of trust.

Spike stopped as the mist grew thicker. He couldn’t even see his feet now but knew he was up to his knees in snow. What the hell was he doing? There was nowhere to go, nothing to do, except look after his girl, whether she wanted him to or not. Because he was as sure as hell that the witch and the Watcher wouldn’t.

A lumbering shape loomed up out of the murk. A big black and white cow mooed mournfully at him and he patted the bony body and pushed it gently away. Spinning round, he headed back, his vampire senses guiding him rather than his eyes. And he scented her before he saw her dark shape appear in ghostly fashion through the fog. She was standing by the hedge where he’d scratched his hand, touching the blood drops on the snow-covered bush with a shaking finger.

“Don’t worry, Slayer. It’s my blood. I suppose you’re just checking that I haven’t slaughtered half of southern England in the last ten minutes!” He hadn’t meant to sound so bitter, but bloody hell, his love for this woman had driven him crazy several times in the last few years and this time was no exception.

Buffy stared at him and he winced at the hurt in her eyes. “I thought you were hurt,” she said quietly, wiping her fingers down her jeans.

“Been sent to warn me off, have you?” Spike swore silently. Why was he making such a bugger-up of this? It wasn’t her fault. Old habits died hard and the witch and the Watcher had always had a hold over her. He knew only too well that they played on her feelings of guilt that she was different to them. Oh they wanted her to be different when it came to the slaying and the killing. They wanted her to have the plans and the energy and skill to put them into play. But they sodding well wanted her to be normal in between times. As if being a Slayer was something you could turn on and off just when it suited you.

Hands on hips, “I came to be with you,” Buffy snapped, hot colour flooding into her pale face. A year or so ago she would have backed away at his harsh words, hurt feelings waving in the breeze, but that was then, this was now. Nothing was going to come between them. Especially not Spike believing something that wasn’t true. “When you stop being such a bone-headed idiot, perhaps we can get back to solving the problem – together!” She glared at her lover, then spoilt the moment by sneezing violently.

Spike felt all his anger vanish in a wave of concern. He strode forward, realising that she was still soaked through, shaking with the cold. The stupid buggers hadn’t even given her a change of clothing. “I’m sorry, pet! Don’t pay any attention to me. I’m an idiot. And you’re going to be ill. Why didn’t you stay inside and get warm?”

“Y..y…yes you are an idiot! A p…p…prize winning, f…f…first-class, Xander level idiot! How c…c…could I stay there when they w..w…wouldn’t even let you over the threshold?” Her teeth were chattering violently as she spoke and he pulled her as close to his body as he could, although he realised there was no warmth for her to share.

“You looked – ” he paused, she seemed so small in his arms, so thin. “I thought – ”

“No, Spike, that’s just the point! You didn’t think,” she muttered, burrowing her head into the angle of his neck and shoulder. “You were like one of those pavlova dogs. One word from Giles and whoosh, you were off like a bat out of hell, all hurt feelings and snarling.”

“I can’t be a dog and a bat at the same time,” Spike murmured into her hair, deciding now wasn’t the time to tell her it was Pavlov’s dogs, not ones made out of meringue. “I saw your face when they said I couldn’t come in. You looked scared – ”

Buffy pushed herself away from him so she could look into his eyes. “I was scared. Terrified. I still am. At first I thought they’d been infected by the Plague in some way, then you vanished into the mist and left me alone, again. And I was right back a couple of years ago with everyone against me – except you. And even this time you seemed to be giving up before we’d even begun to fight.”

Tired green eyes clashed with weary blue ones and then Spike nodded slowly. “You’re right, Slayer. But I would never leave. On my way back now to find you.”

He stared out into the mist. He was desperate now to seek shelter. He could feel her shivering violently as he held her. She’d been soaked through for hours now and the biting cold was eating away at even the Slayer’s iron constitution. “This way,” he said finally and swept her up into his arms. 

“Where are we going? You can’t see a thing in this murk.”

“Following my nose again, pet,” he said and strode into the mist. “There was a cow just now.”

Buffy began to giggle weakly. “How now brown cow? We had to say that in drama class, years and years ago.”

“Well, it wasn’t a brown cow, more like a black and white variety. And if there’s a cow, there has to be a cowshed. Stands to reason.”

“Sounds smelly,” she murmured, feeling a slow languor begin to seep through her body.

“It can stink to high heaven as long as it has a roof and four walls,” Spike replied. “Slayer! Stay awake. Stay with me, Buffy. You mustn’t fall asleep.”

“I’m so cold.” She felt herself sliding down into black sleep and forced her eyes open. She refused to give in to this. She would fight to stay alive, to stay with the man she loved.

The next few minutes were a jumble of feelings and noise. Buffy heard and felt Spike kick a door open, the freezing mist and snow went away and she was lying somewhere smelly but soft. She opened her eyes to find Spike tugging off her jeans and winced as the soaking denim clung to her bare legs. He tossed them aside and began to tug at her top.

Buffy found she was smiling. “I’ve seen you undress me fast before, sweetheart, but never with that expression on your face.”

Spike raised an eyebrow at her and tugged off her top. “Got to get you warm, luv.” He grabbed a handful of hay and began to chafe her skin, working his way along her arms, rolling her over and rubbing her back, down over her butt and along her legs until the skin began to turn pink and the shivering stopped.

She flipped herself over and grinned up at him. “Going to do my front now, Spikey?” She stuck her tongue out at him and the vampire hesitated for a second then growled deep in his chest.

“I don’t think we should – ”

He stopped as she grabbed his head and pulled him down on to of her, squealing as his cold wet T-shirt hit her warm breasts. Her lips were hot under his and the Slayer strength in her hands held his head fast until he gave in and began to return the kiss.

He kicked off his boots, and his T-shirt and jeans followed hers. They made love with a quiet thankfulness that grew into a torrent of pleasure.

“Never...ever…leave…me…again!” she gasped and he groaned as she clamped her legs round his thighs and he sunk into the blazing heat of her core. He vamped into game face as he began to thrust harder and faster. She was a twisting, raging body in his arms and as he felt his fangs break her tender lower lip, he sucked greedily at the trickle of blood that filled his mouth.

Buffy stretched and yawned. This was the first time she’d felt warm for what seemed like days. Then she tensed: she had the oddest feeling she was being watched. Snapping her eyes open, she turned her head to find two big dark eyes staring mournfully at her. Before she could move, a loud mooo rang out and the cow that was standing next to her, lowered its head and sniffed at her bare foot.

“EEEk!” Buffy leapt up, scattering the hay that was covering her like a blanket. She grabbed for her still damp jeans and hopped round on one leg trying to avoid the cow and get dressed. “Spike! Spike! Where the hell are you? It's a cow. A big one.”

A door banged somewhere and a chill draught swept in. The cow mooed again, plaintively as Spike strode up to it, carrying a bucket. “Hi, sweetheart. You looked too comfortable to disturb. See you’ve met Buttercup.”

“It has a name?”

“All cows are called Buttercup, if they’re not called Daisy.” He grinned at her. “Whatever her name is, she needs to be milked.” His face changed and became grim. “God knows where the rest of the herd is, but this one has come back to the farm. But the milking parlour is deserted.”

Buffy edged carefully round the animal. It wasn’t that she didn’t like cows, because, hey, milkshakes, but this was a very large one. “And you’re milking her because…?”

“She needs to be milked. I’ve been up to the farmhouse; it’s deserted. No children, nothing. When they – ” he hesitated.

“Reverted,” Buffy added.

“Right, reverted back to being kids, they must have run off. It‘s just like we said at the beginning, pet. People are going to be so freaked they’ll just start running and never stop. They’ll leave the animals to look after themselves. There are packs of dogs around. I’ve heard them howling. This old lady is lucky to be alive and not their next meal.”

Buffy watched fascinated as he sat down on a hay bale, pushed the bucket under the cow and milk began to squirt into the pail. Her lips twitched. Her mate had pieces of straw in his tangled blond curls but his long fingers were busy pulling and squeezing and the cow certainly didn’t seem bothered. Not for the first time in their relationship, she wished she had a camera. 

“No one will ever believe me!” She sighed. “I suppose if I ask you where you learnt to milk a cow, you’ll come up with some ridiculous story set in your dim and distant past?”

Spike frowned for a second, then smiled up at her. “Nope, watched a TV programme about it. Very educational. I know how to shear a sheep, too.”

Buffy pulled on her boots and tied back her hair. She felt so much better and that was puzzling. OK, they’d made love and that had been incredible, but now she knew she could run for miles, fight all the demons in England and still not be out of breath. “Spike? Do you feel – ” She hesitated.

“Different?”

She remembered the time in the tunnel when he’d forced her to drink from him, to bring her back from the dreadful fate the Plague had in store for her. “Is it your blood?” she asked.

Spike stood up, slapped the cow on its rump and watched as it wandered to the far end of the barn. He was several minutes ahead of his girl. He’d known as they made love that somehow she was even stronger than normal. She should have been exhausted. She’d been freezing cold, almost unconscious, but her powers of recuperation seemed enhanced even beyond that of a normal Slayer.

“Buffy – what exactly did Giles and Willow say to you about me?”

“What? Why? What they think doesn’t matter. We’ve sung this song before, Spike.”

He caught her by the shoulders and tilted her chin, dropping a brief kiss on her lips. “No, not going down that road, Goldilocks. But it isn’t just my blood that’s making you feel odd. It’s a combination of blood and the Plague. Look!”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a twisted piece of metal. “That’s the key to the farmhouse, Buffy. I twisted it in the lock as if it was a strand of soggy spaghetti. I think that’s what Giles and Willow have discovered. The Plague makes vampires and anyone carrying their blood, incredibly strong. In fact – ”

Breaking off a piece of wood from the hay-rack with ease, he pushed it into her hand. “Little experiment, luv. Try staking me!”

To be continued


	8. Invincible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Spike asks Buffy to do something very unusual!

Forever and a Day 

Chp 8 Invincible

 

Buffy stared at the piece of broken wood Spike was holding out to her; she took it and ran her fingers along the sharp jagged edge. She sighed. “You want me to try staking you? Of all the stupid remarks you’ve made over the years we’ve known each other, that is about the stupidest I’ve ever heard!”

“Buffy, the Plague is making us invincible. I know it.”

“Then why didn’t it make those two vamps we dusted in the church invincible? They’re floating out across the sea at this very moment. If you want to join them, OK.”

Spike frowned. “I still think that’s what Willow and Giles have discovered – that the Plague changes vampires in a different way to humans. We don’t revert to childhood, but we get even stronger than normal. And just getting stronger wouldn’t get Giles’ tweed boxers in such a twist. I’m sure we can’t be killed. Maybe those vamps had just risen and the Plague hadn’t had time to effect them.”

“Maybe the moon is made of green cheese. We’re not trying any stupid experiments. End of.”

Spike sat down on a straw bale, the merest suggestion of a pout on his lips. “OK, Miss Bossy-boots. I give in. We won’t try staking me, but I know I’m right about the greater strength.”

Buffy sat next to him and sighed. “Well, it would certainly explain why Giles and Willow are so freaked. And why I feel so full of energy, when I should by right have double pneumonia and be wondering how to put one foot in front of the other.”

Spike wrapped an arm round her thin shoulders and gave her a brief hug. “So, my love-making isn’t the cause of that pink glow in your cheeks, Slayer?”

She smiled and licked her lips, enjoying the way his eyes slitted with desire at that simple action. “I’ve got a pink glow in all sorts of places, but at the moment let’s forget about how strong we are and concentrate on the Plague thingy and how we’re going to defeat it.”

He sighed. “OK, pet. Plan time.” There was a pause, then, “Have you got a plan?”

Buffy stared unseeingly at the scattered straw and mud splattered floor of the barn. All she could picture in her mind were the faces of the children she had already met, Jack and Mandy, at the inn, the vicar and verger at the church, turned back into children and destined to die in a world bereft of adults. “I was relying on Giles to come up with something,” she admitted. “All of this Plague business seems to be rooted in the past and that’s his territory.”

Spike sent her a glancing look from under raised eyebrows. “Do you want me to try talking to him, pet? You know, man to man, vampire to Watcher, dead to alive, I’m not going to kill you, sort of chat?”

“Do you think it’d do any good?”

“Not a soddin’ chance in hell. Your Watcher made up his mind about me a long time ago. Back when he tried to get Robin to stake me.”

Buffy shuddered as she recalled that dreadful night. She could still remember her breath tearing in her chest, as she’d run through the graveyard, trying to get to Spike before Robin killed him. She’d thought she’d never forgive Giles for his treachery, but events had moved so quickly - the battle with the First, the final apocalypse, loosing Spike, having to train all the new Slayers, that somehow they’d drifted into a polite surface friendship that seemed to fool everyone – except her. She knew that deep down, she’d never entirely forgiven him and she was certain that Spike hadn’t, either.

“OK, we’re on our own. We know that the Plague is carried by the mist – “

“Or is the mist!”

“True. So logically, the deadliest part of the mist must be right at its leading edge – the first part that touches the adults and changes them.“

Spike nodded slowly. “I can believe that. Wouldn’t be any use having your big weapon fifteen or twenty miles behind your front line.”

“So we need to get in front of it. See what’s actually there. I mean, is something or someone making the mist? It can’t just appear all on its own.”

Spike frowned. “You think it’s a sort of cloaking device – like you get in some bloody sci-fi movie. Star Trek or Star Wars?”

Buffy sighed and wriggled herself closer to him. “Where’s Andrew when we most need him?” she muttered sarcastically. “But yes, that’s what I reckon. Not in an alien spaceshippy sort of way, more a demony sort of thing.“

“Reckon we need to head north west,” Spike said suddenly. “The mist is definitely drifting in that direction.”

“Wish our car wasn’t still buried in that ditch.”

Spike stood up and pulled her with him. “Let’s try the farmhouse, sweetheart. There’s bound to be some sort of vehicle there. I don’t reckon the changelings will be using cars. Let’s face it, their feet won’t reach the pedals!”

Hand in hand, they left the shelter of the barn and made their way through the snow across the yard to the farmhouse. The front door stood wide open where Spike had forced it earlier and snow was drifting in, driven by the wind. Glancing in, they could see broken glass and splintered furniture. It looked as if someone had tried to set fire to the wooden shards.

Spike pulled a face at the desolation and made his way round to the side of the building where an old truck stood under a rickety shelter. He pulled open the driver’s door and clambered in. Buffy joined him, glad to be out of the wind and cold.

“Did you go into the house before?”

Spike nodded grimly. “No one there, pet. Just destruction. No food, phone’s dead, too. Whoever lived there has long gone.”

Buffy shuddered. It was almost impossible to imagine how terrified the owners must have been – waking up to find themselves children, cut off by the snow, no food, no phone to call for help, and even if they could find someone, they would be children too. She vowed she would defeat this thing and found herself fighting back a surge of anger at Willow and Giles. Surely their enmity towards Spike could be forgotten when there was such a threat to everyone’s existence?

She sighed. There must be some way of destroying it forever. She grabbed a map from the back seat and unfolded it. “You think we should drive north west?”

Spike turned the key and after a few whirring noises, the engine spluttered into life. “That’s the way the mist is heading, pet. ” He glanced down at the map on her knee, reached over and turned it the other way, his lips twitching as he remembered her lack of map reading skills had landed them in this mess in the first place.

“OK – ” She glared at him then ran her finger up the main road leading north. “Spike – “ suddenly she became serious. “Here – thirty miles or so away – look what it says – The Devil’s Punchbowl!”

Spike frowned and fought the wheel as the truck jolted down a rough track, churning through the snow, the wipers fighting to cope with snow and mist. “Rings a bell, pet. Vast hollow in the ground. Do you reckon -?”

Buffy shrugged. “It’s the first time we’ve seen anything that might be a clue. And it’s definitely north west of here.”

Spike spun the wheel hard as the truck reached the slightly firmer surface of the road. “OK, Slayer. Devil’s Punchbowl here we come!”

A mile away, Giles and Willow were standing in the vicarage kitchen, a map and several large books spread out on the big table between them. The shimmering magic barrier that Willow had erected to prevent the Plague reaching them danced and whirled outside the window.

Willow ran a worried hand through her short red hair and gazed up at Giles. “Are you sure? The Devil’s Punchbowl. Sounds creepy.”

Giles polished his glasses on the end of his tie and rubbed the bridge of his nose where they pinched him. “Whatever it is, it’s heading in that direction. As far as I can tell, it’s spent hundreds of years trying to get here and now it’s speeded up.“

“How do we stop it infecting us if we go outside the barrier?”

Giles looked at her wearily. He felt soul sick, so tired he’d have loved to have crawled into bed, pulled the covers over his head and stayed there forever. “I know it’s a silly thing to ask, but do you think you could make a barrier round the car and keep it there while we drive?”

Willow’s eyes grew very round. “A moving barrier? Giles, I’ve never tried anything like that before. If I get it wrong, or it doesn’t work, then we could be little Willow and Giles before we’ve gone a couple of miles down the road!”

Giles smiled ruefully. He was looking at the most powerful witch he’d ever had the misfortune – or luck, depending on which way you looked at it – he’d ever met. He was quite certain that she would manage the moving barrier effortlessly.

“What about Buffy and Spike?” Willow asked hesitantly and watched as the Englishman’s kind, concerned face hardened. 

“At the moment we can’t afford to think about them,” he said. “Spike is infected – that’s obvious from the records.”

“But why is Buffy immune? Just because she’s the Slayer?”

Giles had his own opinion on why. He thought drily that exchange of bodily fluids had a lot to do with Buffy’s ability to cope with the Plague. “Yes, I imagine so. He‘s infected her in some way, mentally if not physically. We’ll have to hope we can save her at a later date.”

Willow bit her lip. She hated to see Giles and Buffy on opposite sides. “Perhaps Spike is still working on the right side,” she suggested hesitantly.

Giles pushed his glasses back on and tightened the knot of his tweed tie. His feelings for the vampire had never changed. For all of Angelus’ actions, murdering Jenny, killing and maiming, in his opinion, Spike was worse.

He could forgive the teenage Buffy for thinking she was in love with a dark, brooding monster. He could even laugh at her having sex with Spike when she was vulnerable and the vampire had taken advantage of her weakness. But he would never, ever forgive the adult Buffy for allowing the Initiative to take out Spike’s chip. When you’d tied a mad dog to a post, you never deliberately loosened the rope. He picked up the map and looked at it again. “The Devil’s Punchbowl,” he said softly. “Whatever we meet there, let’s hope it’s the final battle.”

Willow nodded but her frown deepened. Somehow she didn’t feel that this battle was going to be won so easily.

tbc


	9. The Best Seven Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Buffy and Spike go exploring...and hunting....

Forever and a Day by Lilachigh

Chapter 9 The Best Seven Days

 

The journey back north up the A3 road was a nightmare of the worst kind – the one when you knew you were dreaming but couldn’t make yourself wake up. The snow was still falling and all along the side of the road were wrecked vehicles, some burnt out, others lying on their sides, mute testimony to what had happened to their drivers as the mist reached them – reverting to small children, unable to control their cars and lorries.

Buffy stared, grim faced, as they passed. She could only imagine the fear and sheer horror that those people must have felt, their feet unable to reach the pedals, unable to see out, deafened, perhaps by screams from passengers, finally managing to brake, struggle up to look into the little vanity mirrors and seeing – a child gazing back where only seconds before, an adult had been.

Suddenly something hard smashed against the roof the truck and Spike vamped out as he swerved viciously to avoid a pack of small boys who appeared, screaming and yelling, out of the fog. He shouted a warning and reached over to pull Buffy down as stones rained against the truck and the window on the passenger side shattered, sending murderous glass shards flying towards them.

Then they were past. “Spike! Slow down! You can’t see where you’re going. You’ll hit someone.”

Spike turned and winced. She had a cut across her forehead and blood was running down her cheek. The truck screeched to a stop with the engine still running and he leant against the steering wheel, his hands still clenched tightly around the rim. “Check the doors are locked, Slayer,” he said, his eyes still gleaming gold. “We can’t risk them getting in.”

Buffy shuddered. Through the mist she’d caught glimpses of wild faces and eyes lost in tangled hair. Dirty, blood-smeared cheeks of children no older than nine or ten, but who were probably twenty or thirty years old in real life. She turned round in her seat to see if they were still in view. “Spike – they’re only little kids, we should – ”

“There’s nothing we can do for them,” Spike said bleakly as he eased the truck forward again. “This is what the Plague wants, luv, complete anarchy, destruction of human life.”

Buffy wiped her fingers across her cheek and, without thinking, held them out to Spike. He shimmered back to human, threw a startled sideways glance at her and gently licked the blood from her skin. “Are you hungry?” she asked quietly, shivering at the touch of his tongue.

“Always, pet!”

She smiled slightly. “I meant for blood.”

“Well, if someone was to offer me a nice jug of pig at this very second, I don’t think I’d take it. A little Slayer goes a long way!”

She sighed and huddled inside her damp jacket. She felt fine, thanks, she knew to Spike’s blood he had forced her to drink earlier, but the freezing wind whistling through the open window still had the power to chill her to the bone. “How much further?” she asked at last.

Spike shrugged and fiddled with the radio on the dashboard, but all that came out of the speakers was a high-pitched whining. “Reckon we must be nearly there. We’ve done a good few miles. Look – there’s a sign for Hindhead. The Devil’s Punchbowl is just the other side of that cross roads.”

”Is it my imagination, or is the mist getting thinner?”

“Yes, we’re outrunning it at last. And the snow’s almost stopped.”

“We need to get in front of it, Spike. I want to be able to turn and face whatever it is. Meet and fight it head on, not skulking around in its wake. I am so tired of Evil things that think they can do just what they like.”

As she spoke, the final wisps of mist vanished and they drove out into a bright, star-filled night. A skinny moon dipped backwards and forwards between the clouds but its light made very little difference to the darkened, empty village they drove through. None of the streetlights were working and even the traffic lights were permanently set on red. 

Spike cautiously drove across the junction and then pulled the truck off the road, into a big open space. The headlights shone on a rundown wooden snack bar with benches and tables set out for the customers who might never come to eat and drink again. He turned off the engine and glanced across at Buffy. “Well, we’re here, pet. What now?”

“This is the Punchbowl? Doesn’t look very bowley to me. More sort of flat.”

Spike glanced again at the map and nodded ahead of him. “Right there, pet. See where the path heads out through the trees. It drops down, hundreds of feet. The main road runs right round the rim in a vast semi circle.”

Buffy sighed. “OK, vampire boy! I haven’t got your night vision, remember?”

His smile was warm, even through the strain on his face. “Stick with me, pet. I won’t let the nasties eat you.”

“I’d like to see them try. Sadly, I don’t think this particular nasty is the type that I can stake, do you?”

Spike shook his head and jumped out of the truck. He stared back up the road. “Don’t look now, Slayer, but the mist’s getting closer.”

Buffy joined him, pulling her hair back from where it was tumbling loose around her shoulders and tying it tightly. Spike smiled to himself. He’d seen his Slayer do that so many times in he past. It was her final ‘going into battle’ move. In the starlight, he could see her face, pale, determined, resolute. Whatever was causing the Plague, he didn’t give it much chance of success with Buffy Summers in this mood.

“We’re taking a chance, Buffy, that this Devil’s Punchbowl is where the Plague is heading.”

She nodded. “I know, but it’s our one and only clue. And I’ve got a strange feeling that we’re right. It’s too big a coincidence. Come on, let’s see exactly what’s down there that’s so interesting to Mr Plaguey!”

“Wait a second, luv.”

She stopped and looked up at him, inquiringly. Spike hesitated, then reached forward and ran a finger slowly down her cheek, as if he wanted to imprint on his skin every cell of hers. “I just want to say – these few days since we met again – they’ve been – I’ve never – ”

Buffy smiled, cupped his thin face in her hands and kissed him. “Shut up, idiot,” she said softly. “I know what you mean. Don’t think you’re the only one in this relationship who’s had the happiest week of their life!”

“True?”

“True. Now, let’s go kill things!”

“Romance thy name is Buffy Summers,” he said jokingly, but she winced and tightened her hands on his face, rubbing her thumbs along the cheekbones that had haunted her dreams for so many months.

“Spike – I’m sorry. I know you deserve more from me, but I can’t…. I can’t do the pretty words. I’ve tried. I used to lay awake night after night, making up all these speeches I should have given you. In my head they sound great, but when the words come out of my mouth, they don’t even come close to explaining how I feel inside. I just can’t do romantic.”

“Buffy – ”

“OK, I know, wrong place to start telling you this. But you know I love you, right? You honestly and absolutely believe that?”

Spike nodded cautiously, wondering where the hell she was going with this.

“Then that is all that’s important, isn’t it? I think I’ve spent too long with death and destruction to suddenly become poetic girl.” Her eyes suddenly sparked with mischief. “I’ll leave that to you - William!”

And before he could reply, she reached up and kissed him, her fingers tight on the back of his neck, her body – almost as cold as his - molding itself against the steel of his muscles. 

When they finally broke apart, they stood, forehead to forehead and Buffy felt an odd peace sweep through her. They’d experienced every sort of emotion in the last few days, passion, pain, terror, bliss – but for these few seconds, the world and all the evil in it had been pushed down into its rightful place, and they were at peace with each other.

They didn’t speak as they broke away and moved silently and fast down the path that led through the trees into the Devil’s Punchbowl.

In the shadows behind the snack bar hut, Willow and Giles stood by their car, cloaked in the shimmering circle that provided the spell to keep them from the Plague. Keeping the barrier in place around the car as they drove had proved harder than Willow had imagined. She felt exhausted and wondered if this dreadful night would ever end.

She’d wanted to rush out and tell Buffy they were there, but the relentless pressure of Giles’ fingers on her arm had stopped her. She’d glanced up at his face, a question on her lips, and the words had shrivelled and died. This was a Giles she didn’t recognise: implacable, intent, frightening. And so they’d stood in a silence that was so tense it made the barrier ripple, watching as the Slayer and the vampire kissed and then vanished down the track, through the bushes, into the vast hollow. At last Giles relaxed his grip and Willow rubbed her arm, trying to ease the ache. She looked at him again, trying to remember why his expression, or rather the lack of it, seemed so familiar.

Then suddenly, in her memory, she was back at the bottom of Glory’s tower, watching Giles as he bent over Ben, remembering with a sickening chill, exactly what he’d done and how the look on his face had never altered, not once, as he killed him, not in the heat of a battle, but in cold blood. And a wave of fear for Spike and Buffy’s lives flooded over her.

The path leading down into the Devil’s Punchbowl was steep and slippery underfoot. The snow and ice slid away, leaving soft clinging mud as Buffy and Spike plunged hundreds of feet down towards the floor of the great hollow. Bare branches scratched wickedly at their faces and long tangles of brambles caught and plucked at their clothes as they fought their way past.

The lower they went, the steeper the path became, then suddenly the track petered out and they reached the bottom where a deep layer of crispy dead leaves crunched underfoot. Spike tilted his head back and stared up at what he could still see of the night sky through the bare tree branches that crowded in like a black lace curtain overhead. “Mist’s coming down after us, pet,” he said briefly, watching the white tendrils curling implacably through the cold air towards them.

Buffy stopped to catch her breath. “I was right. Whatever it is, it’s heading here,” she said. 

Spike gazed round. “But what for? There’s nothing here – just more brambles, bushes, mud and sodding stones.”

“I can hear water running,” Buffy said and pushed her way up a slope, through a tangle of stinging nettles, wincing as they stung her skin. “Here, Spike – there’s a stream – look, bubbling out between those rocks.”

In front of them stood a jumble of huge boulders and rocks, piled haphazardly on top of each other. From halfway up the pile, water was cascading out from between two stones.

The vampire joined her. “Surprised it isn’t frozen solid in this temperature.” He reached forward to touch it, then stopped. “Hey, Slayer. It’s warm!”

Buffy glanced at him in astonishment, then dabbled her fingers in the trickle of water that hissed out across the shining rock. “You’re right. What the heck – ” She pulled at one of the massive boulders that guarded the entrance, then braced herself as it moved slightly, then stopped. Spike splashed his way through the stream to her side and together they rocked the boulder until, with a final grunt from Spike, they heaved it aside and it rolled down the slope, to crash through the undergrowth. 

Buffy caught her breath in a gasp. The boulder had been sitting on top of two more rocks, forming a dark tunnel that lead straight into the earth. Water was flowing freely now and she could see faint traces of steam rising when it reached the cold air. She peered down into the blackness behind the rocks, but could see nothing. Spike bent over and stuck his head into the opening.

“Careful, you idiot!” Buffy snapped. “What if there’s some sort of monster lurking just inside - a big one, with lots of sharp teeth? Listen, I haven’t spent all this time and trouble over you just to see you get dusted the first time you get the chance to do something stupid.”

Spike stood up and grinned at her. “¥ou’d have done exactly the same thing, Slayer! I was just saving you the bother. Anyway, there’s nothing there. But the air feels warm. And – look - !” He pointed and Buffy turned as the mist they had lived with for so long began to change. It was as if the hole in the rock was acting as a magnet. The mist no longer drifted but began to thicken and quicken as it headed for the Punchbowl floor. Even as they watched, the first tendrils found the entrance and flowed inside. Then it was as all the mist was being sucked up and it flew past Buffy and Spike at an ever-increasing speed.

Spike ran his fingers through his hair and watched. “Right, no doubt about it, pet. Whatever evil's behind this, we’ve definitely reached coming home time!”

“We need to get in there.”

Spike nodded. “Could be a hundred foot drop, sweetheart.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “Chicken!” she said sweetly and slid herself into the gap.

Spike cursed violently and tried to grab hold of her hands as she vanished from view. His Plague infected blood that he’d forced her to drink when she’d been about to revert to childhood had made her stronger; it was apparently also making her far less cautious than normal. And being impulsive was not a good thing where a Slayer was concerned.

“Stupid bint. Buffy! Buffy! Are you OK?”

“Fine. Come on in, the water’s lovely!” came her muffled shout.

Muttering under his breath exactly what he was going to do to his woman once he got her somewhere private, Spike tore off his leather coat and threw it across a bush. There was just room then to squeeze himself inside the rock. He could feel space around him and realised they were inside a cavern that stretched out in all directions. He felt his boots splash down into the water that was trickling out of the rock wall closest to them, forming into a pool and then cascading out into the Punchbowl.

“It’s icy cold when it comes out of the wall,” Buffy was saying. “ But the ground’s hot, Spike. That’s what’s making the water warm.”

He waded through the pool to where she’d climbed out onto a narrow ledge. “There’s light coming from somewhere, too, pet.” 

“Yeah. Sort of reddish. Which way is the mist heading?”

Spike turned to watch. The white tendrils were racing past him now, joining into a solid column and vanishing through a hole in the far corner of the cavern, the same hole that the reddish light was coming from. “I’m wondering if this is such a good idea, Slayer,” he said tentatively, watching the mist being sucked downwards. He thought he could hear a sort of roaring noise now. “For all we know, that could be another Hellmouth.”

Buffy screwed up her face. “Ugggh. I so do not need to deal with that again. But there’s never been any record of a Hellmouth in England. Not as far as I know.” She sighed. “I know I’m never talking to Giles again, but I do wish he was here. Even if he had to write his comments down for me to read! He might know what we’re dealing with.”

Spike shrugged. His opinion of her ex-Watcher wasn’t polite, wasn’t even civilized. He knew Rupert Giles would dust him without blinking if the chance ever arose. He’d seen the expression in the Watcher’s eyes back in London when the realisation that Buffy was sleeping with him had struck home; when Giles had first realised that what he’d hoped was an infatuation was really love. When he’d realised that all his worst nightmares were coming true. Oh, he’d made with all the pretty words, hadn’t shouted or even made Spike feel unwelcome. Giles had been far more worried then about losing whatever faint regard Buffy still had for him. But now? This Plague and the effect it had on vampires had swung him completely into the “Let’s dust Spike” camp. Soul or no soul, it made no difference to Giles. 

Spike jumped slightly as Buffy put a hand on his shoulder. He could see her face in the odd light striking upwards from the ground. She looked serious; Slayer serious. 

“Spike – whatever’s down there, it’s what the Plague mist has been heading towards for all these centuries. Remember those diaries that Wesley sent to Giles before he died? How we heard about the Plague in the first place? It’s been coming across Europe for years and now it’s finally got here. God knows what’s going to happen now. We have to go down underground with it and see. We – I – haven’t got a choice.”

“We – I - ? You shutting me out again, pet?”

Buffy ran her hand gently down his cheek. “No, of course not, stupid. But you do have a choice. I don’t. That’s all I’m trying to say. I’m not being brave – although, hey, whatever was in your blood certainly makes fighting evil seem easy – I’m being realistic.” She smiled. “And that’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear myself saying! Jeez, friends trying to destroy the world, lover dying and coming back to life - if I’ve learnt nothing else over the past few years, I’ve discovered that being a Slayer has nothing to do with realism.”

“Well, if you think for one moment that I’m going to let you vanish through that hole in the ground on your own, then you’re even crazier than I thought!” he snapped. “If we go, we go together.”

* * * * * * * *

 

Outside in the Devil’s Punchbowl, a grim faced Rupert Giles and a very worried Willow were clambering slowly down the path from the car park. Willow was fighting to keep the shimmering shield in place – the shield she’d magiced into being to keep her and Giles safe from the Plague. But the worry on her face wasn’t just from the mental effort she was expending to keep them protected: she was desperately worried both by Buffy and Spike vanishing into this misty, murky hole and the waves of hatred she could feel coming from Giles as they slid and slithered their way down the muddy path.

She was also only too aware that the movement of the mist around them had changed. Minutes ago it had been moving, but slowly with its usual wavering movements. Now there was a chill rush past her face, as the very air seemed to quiver and throw itself downhill.

“What are you going to do, Giles?” she gasped, clutching hold of a tree trunk to stop herself sitting on her backside and sliding all the way down.

Giles glanced at her and braced himself sideways to stop walking. He could see the shimmering barrier waving and realised how hard it was for the witch to keep it in place if they weren’t close together. “Whatever’s necessary,” he said briefly. “I’m hoping that Buffy will be able to discover what’s behind all this evil and deal with it. If we can help, then we will, but Willow, whatever we find, whatever trouble Buffy is in when we reach her, you must not drop the barrier. The mist seems to have changed in substance – ”

“Oh, you’ve noticed that, too. Yes, it’s gone all thick and yoghurty.”

The merest flicker of a smile touched Giles’ face. “And so you have destroyed my desire ever to eat yoghurt again! Not that I ever do, but there was always the thought of such an adventure ahead of me. But yes, I have noticed. It’s picked up speed and is heading, very definitely, for one destination.”

“So that’s where we’ll find Buffy and Spike.”

Giles held out his hand as she let go of the tree trunk and slid down the few feet towards him. “Yes, and as I was just saying, under no circumstances must you lower the barrier. We still have no protection against the Plague.”

“Giles, that’s all good, a good plan and yes, completely on board with the staying safe. Love staying safe. Life’s work staying safe. But this Plague – what it does to people – the lost children – Giles, if we can stop it, even if we have to sacrifice ourselves to do it, surely we’ve no choice?”

The Watcher patted her hand in an absentminded fashion, turned and continued to half slide, half clamber down the path, following the fast flowing mist towards its final destination. He knew he sounded as if he was looking after himself first and that the rest of the world could go hang, but Willow wasn’t looking at the bigger picture. He had complete faith in Buffy’s abilities to destroy whatever was causing this. He had no idea how, but he knew she would do it.

But what he did know, felt in his bones so hard that they ached with the knowledge, was that the Plague had created a race of super vampires and, starting with Spike, he had to eliminate them before they discovered their power and what havoc they could cause with it.

To be continued

 

 

 

 

 

“


	10. For the Good of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Buffy is desperate for something or someone to kill - and Giles finally gets his own way.

Chapter 10 For the Good of the World

 

As Spike dropped down through the hole in the ground inside the rock wall at the bottom of the Devil’s Punchbowl, he was aware of the fog rushing past and a blast of hot air surrounding him. The hole, just large enough for a body to move through, fell away steeply into the earth and ahead of him he could hear Buffy sliding and slipping her way forwards. The water had stopped flowing but the ground was still as slippery as ice.

“You OK?” he yelled and heard her shout back as they shot down, down, down – the mist roaring past them, the heat increasing with every foot they travelled. Then, suddenly, there was a lot more light, Buffy’s body vanished and with a shout he found himself plunging out of the tunnel into thin air and thumping down on hard rock. He rolled over, gasping for breath. “Buffy?”

“Here! You OK?”

“Well, I don’t think anything’s permanently damaged, but you’ll need to check it all out later.”

She grinned. End of the world, apocalypse, come what may, she could trust the man she loved to keep his mind firmly on the important things of life!

Gazing round, she saw they were lying on the floor of a small rocky cavern. The mist was surging past them, over a ledge and vanishing into a sullen crimson glow many feet below. She crawled forward and peered over the edge: thirty feet beneath her was a heaving, shining, molten mass. Waves of heat shimmered across a rolling surface that changed from scarlet to crimson to maroon. The mist was vanishing into it with a constant hissing that was so loud it sounded like a high-pitched groan of satisfaction. 

As Buffy stared, she realised Spike was lying on the ground next to her. He raised an eyebrow. “So that’s it, Slayer? That’s what we’ve risked life – well your life - and limb to kill? A sort of Blob? Hasn’t got a head that I can see. Or a heart. You going to stake it or flatten it?”

Buffy wiped the sweat out of her eyes. She couldn’t tell if the Blob was liquid or solid. But apart from being a nasty red and sort of sick-making the way it curled and flopped, it didn’t look particularly – well – threatening! “That can’t be it,” she muttered thoughtfully, pushing her tangled hair,, that had once more escaped the ribbon, out of her eyes. “There’s no sense of a brain or intelligence there, Spike.” She sat up and hugged her knees, strangely glad of the heat from the Blob on her back. “I was expecting – I don’t know – a…a…thing…. a demon…monster type thingy I could kill.”

“You sound disappointed.”

Her eyes looked big and tired in her pale face. “Don't you get it? We’re no further forwards. Whatever that is, it’s obviously incredibly hot. I can’t get anywhere near it and I’ve no idea at all how to destroy it.”

Spike draped an arm affectionately over her shoulders. “You’ll think of something, Slayer. If I’ve learnt nothing else over all these years, it’s that you can always find ways of killing things!”

Buffy rested her head against him for a while. Spike’s confidence in her was nice but she wasn’t sure if it was completely justified. She wondered if the day would ever come when she wouldn’t be faced with a decision to make about life and death. When she and the man she loved could just – well – just be. Somehow she doubted it. Having all the new Slayers didn’t seem to have helped. She was still being faced with problems and emergencies.

“The mist’s throwing itself into the Blob,” she muttered. “I wonder what’ll happen when it stops?”

Spike gently rubbed the back of her neck, feeling her arch against him as the muscles eased. “Something tells me I don’t think we should be sitting here then,” he said wryly.

“At least I’m feeling warm for the first time in days,” Buffy said. “My jeans are dry. And I can’t remember the last time my boots didn’t feel all squelchy.”

Spike frowned. Now she mentioned it, the temperature in the little cave did seem to be increasing. He could sense the heat and the red light from Blob was growing brighter and brighter…. He threw himself flat again and slid to the edge of the pit. “Bloody sodding Hell!”

“What?” Buffy slid down next to him and then gasped. When she’d first looked at the Blob it was a good thirty feet away – now it was only three or four feet distant. She could almost reach down and touch it. Great waves of heat blasted up at her and as the mist flung itself into the mass, another sickening roll of motion made it jerk up another six inches, heading straight towards her.

“It’s growing!”

“Obvious statement number one, sweetheart,” Spike growled and, standing up, pulled her to her feet. “And I don’t think we want to be here to greet it when it comes of age and spills out of its pit.”

“Spike, that’s what the mist is doing! Feeding it. It’s not just mist – it’s some type of food.”

“Prefer a nice glass of O-neg myself, but each to his own. Now, can we be somewhere else – soon – please?”

* * * *

Outside in the Devil’s Punchbowl, Giles and Willow were standing, watching as the Plague mist roared in a solid rope of white through the rocky entrance into the ground. Willow was bent forward, her red head buied in her hands, shaking; the strain of keeping up the shimmering silver barrier that was protecting her and Giles from the effects of the Plague was immense. “Giles, I don’t know if I can do this for much longer,” she gasped.

Giles hardly heard her. He was staring at the marks on the rocks; boot prints in the mud, some large, some small. Obviously Buffy and Spike had gone into the ground at this point – together with the mist. 

“Giles! You’re not listening to me. I can’t hold the barrier up for much longer.” Willow collapsed onto the muddy ground. The barrier faded, then pulsed brighter as she shut her eyes and concentrated again. It was taking an enormous amount of magical power to surround her and Giles with protection when they moved. It was far harder than just throwing a band around a house. Keeping the barrier around the car as they'd travelled had almost killed her, draining every ounce of mental energy she possessed. Now she was almost at the end of her endurance.

Giles glanced down at the young woman crouching behind him. He moved a couple of feet to one side, the barrier following him. He glanced at her again. The red head was bowed and she didn’t see as he scuffed his foot across the boot marks, wiping them out. “Willow, I know this is hard, but we can’t allow ourselves to be infected. We have to find Buffy and help her. Spike is dangerous. I know you don’t believe me, but he is.”

Wearily, she raised her head and stared up at him. He looked and sounded implacable, cold; despite his words, uncaring of the strains and pressures she was suffering. There was something about his face, his eyes, that worried her. Rupert Giles was her saviour, the man who’d brought her back from the depths of despair and horror. She couldn’t imagine not doing exactly what he wanted, not believing that where demons and monsters were concerned, he knew best. But…

She was worried sick about Kennedy who was still, as far as she knew, down in Wales, demon hunting. Had the mist travelled that far west yet? She doubted it, but her phone wouldn’t connect through the barrier so she couldn’t contact her to give her a warning. She was just as worried about Buffy. Giles seemed to think that Spike had turned into some super-vamp. But even if he did, she knew with every bone in her body that he still had his soul and even without one, he wouldn’t hurt the woman he’d loved for so many years. Why couldn’t Giles see that?

“Where do you think they’ve gone?” she said, staring around. It was getting a little lighter now. A long way above their heads, they could see through the trees, the sullen sky was turning from dark to light grey. “I suppose Spike can be outside in this half light.”

Giles nodded. “There’s no sign of them. I suggest we go back to the car and try to find somewhere to shelter and get some food.”

Willow was puzzled. “Shouldn’t we keep looking for them? I thought you were worried about Buffy?”

“I am, but we need to sit and think, rather than blunder about down here. They could be miles away by now. And look - !”

Willow spun round and gasped. For the first time for days, the thick white mist was thinning to the point of invisibility. As they stood, watching, the final wisps flicked inside the earth and vanished and a few stray sunbeams began to find their way down into the bottom of the vast curved valley. The Devil’s Punchbowl.

“It’s gone!” Willow said shakily and swayed with the relief. Without consulting Giles, she let the protection barrier fade away and felt she could breathe properly for the first time in days. “Do you think Buffy has defeated it?” she asked eagerly.

Giles frowned, then smiled at her. “Yes, I think she probably has. Why else would it stop? Willow, you don’t look well. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you down here on a wild goose chase. Why don’t you go back to the car? I’ll just check that there’s no sign of Buffy and Spike on the other side of that stream, then I’ll follow you up.”

Willow nodded, reaching into her pocket for her phone. She was desperate to call Kennedy and needed to get somewhere she could receive a signal. She scrambled away up the steep, muddy path, wondering what she would find when she got to the top. Would the children have reverted back to adults? Would everything be back to normal? How had Buffy managed it?

Giles stood, watching the witch clamber up the slope towards the car park. He admired her powers, admitted that he would have been in dire straits without them – indeed at one point he‘d even wondered if she had got the barrier up around them in time.

But he was obviously unaffected. His mind was clear and not at all childish. In fact, his brain felt sharper than ever before. He was in perfect control, had no doubts any more about anything. He knew in his bones that what he thought and felt was right, no matter if evidence to the contrary was shown him.

Willow was waving at him. Irritated, Giles waved back as she vanished out of view. He was wondering now if the Plague mist had touched her in some way. Her childish belief that Buffy and Spike were a partnership made in heaven he found extremely irritating. He might have a soul, and even now Giles doubted that, but even so, Spike had been changed into a Super Vampire. He knew this. Buffy was deluded; he knew this, too. His Slayer, the girl he had moulded and groomed, protected and led for all these years, was just one of many now. And if she died, well, he’d be sad, remembering the girl she had once been, but there were so many others now, one Slayer more or less didn’t matter.

Giles shivered. The temperature was dropping again. He couldn’t remember when he’d last felt so cold. He stared at where the final wisp of mist had vanished. Their tracks had showed him quite clearly that Spike and Buffy had gone underground to fight the Plague. Imprisoning themselves with it. Well, that had been their decision but it was good in the long run because letting Spike out would be extremely wrong. He had to die. And if that meant sacrificing Buffy – well, so be it.

He had a clear memory of killing Ben all those years ago in Sunnydale. He’d been faced with the decision whilst everyone around him was weeping and wailing. Typical! Now he was faced with another decision and he would make it, coolly, calmly and for the good of the world. It was quite satisfying to once again be the person whose actions, although unappreciated, would change everything. He couldn’t understand why he’d spent the last few years being so – so – feeble!

Grimly, but calmly, he kicked out at the rocky area around the entrance. A few seconds were all it took to bring down a cascade of stones and mud and within seconds the entrance was blocked. Giles found he was smiling and shook his head to clear it. This was no laughing matter. He was ashamed of himself for hilarity at this serious time. And with a show of incredible strength that strangely didn’t surprise him, he picked up a huge boulder and wedged it firmly across the only exit that Buffy and Spike could use to escape.

To be continued


	11. Friends and Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which lines are drawn and sides chosen

Forever and a Day by Lilachigh

 

Chapter 11: Friends and enemies

 

Buffy took a last look at where the revolting, heaving scarlet mass was rising towards them up the cliff face and ran across the cavern floor to the far side. She peered anxiously up the rocky shaft she and Spike had slithered and slid down minutes earlier.

Spike was at her side, his face anxious. “Better make it quick, pet. Blob’s getting bigger and bigger.”

“Hey, I think we should think of a more evil sounding name than Blob,” she gasped and turning to face him gestured upwards. He linked his hands, and as her foot touched them, he threw her skywards as hard as he could.

She scrambled into the shaft, dug her toes hard against a stony ridge and braced herself. Then, gazing up, she hesitated. It had seemed so simple, coming down. Although it had been steep, they’d managed to slide and scrabble until the final fall. But going back was another matter.  
She wriggled round until she was lying flat, then reached down her arm and braced herself as she saw Spike jump, catch her hand and let her swing him up. He crawled over her and she muttered crossly as his boots jabbed her in the ribs. “Mind where you’re putting your feet, vampire!”

“I was distracted by you sticking your bum in my face!”

Buffy grinned then stopped as, looking down out of the end of the shaft, she saw the first of the bubbling crimson mass surge and flow across the cavern floor. “Blob’s on the move,” she snapped and twisting over, managed to follow Spike up the passageway. It was a nightmare journey, the rock slicing their skin and without Spike’s strength, they would both have fallen back into the lower cavern, time and time again, but at last they crawled out into the top cave.

“Hopefully, it’ll take some time to fill the lower cave,” Buffy groaned, rubbing her scraped hands and elbows where the rock surface had scratched them.

Spike snagged a hand and licked her knuckles clean, his blue eyes gleaming up at her as he did so. “What next, Slayer?”

Buffy shook her head. She was so tired; why was there never enough time to stop and think? Jeez, she needed some sleep and a few hours to come up with a plan. She needed a holiday in Hawaii, too, and a bright yellow Ferrari. Hey, what was the likelihood of getting any of it?

“At least the mist has stopped.”

Buffy stretched her arms, trying to work the kinks out of her shoulder muscles. “Do you reckon the children will revert back to adults now it’s gone?”

Spike was busy piling rocks on top of the shaft entrance. He didn’t think they would hold the Blob for long, but every second might count. “I’ve been thinking about that. You know, over all these years when different countries in Europe were being infected, nothing has changed, has it?”

Buffy leant against the cave wall, trying to get her brain to function. “And in words of one syllable?”

“Well, we know from the diaries that the Plague has been coming across Europe every generation. And it’s caused bloody havoc. But life’s gone on, hasn’t it? Wars, revolutions, inventions, people being born, dying normally. Adults have been changed into kids but not everyone in the world, just those in the line of the mist.”

Buffy frowned. “So, you’re saying we needn’t have bothered? We should just have got out of its way and let it feed Blob?”

Spike heard the anxiety in her voice and recognised the “I am the Slayer, how have I failed to save the World’ tone and pulled her into his arms. He held her close, nuzzling the tender skin under her ear.

“No, Slayer. We couldn’t ignore it, but now we’re facing something different. I’ve no idea where the mist comes from but I reckon it only exists for a short time. It gets so far, then fades away. Then years later, it starts again from the same place it died.”

“So all this time, it’s been heading for the Devil's Punchbowl in Englnd and now it’s arrived and the Blob is on the move?”

“Seems likely, pet. I think this is its ultimate destination and now it’s here, feeding the Blob. This must be the first time. There’s no mention in the diaries of a heaving red mass kerflumping across Europe and hey, it would be hard to miss.”

Buffy moaned gently, enjoying the sensation of being supported on so many levels. “You know, Spike, we really have got to get Giles and Willow to talk to us properly. They’ve got more brains than us. They might have some idea what we should do next."

Spike sighed. He had no doubts whatsoever that the only talking Giles wanted to do was over his dust as it floated away on the breeze. “We can try. But this super strength the Plague has given me terrifies your Watcher. He can’t see beyond it. He thinks that because I’m stronger, I must be even more evil.”

Buffy pulled herself free and tugged down the T-shirt that had somehow been scrunched up under Spike’s wandering hands. “Spike -? Which way did we come in?”

The vampire spun round, confused. “Well, the shaft’s over there, so – ” he pointed at the rocky face of the cave. “Up there’s the ledge – you can still hear the water trickling down into the pool.”

“So – where’s the entrance gone?”

Spike frowned. She was right. There should be some light coming through the rock face above the pool. OK, it hadn’t been a very big crack they’d squeezed through, but big enough. By now they should be able to see even the gloomy daylight of dark, winter’s day. He jumped as high as he could, exalting in the extra strength and power in his limbs, caught hold of the ledge and swung himself up. Yes, there was the opening in the rocky ceiling above his head – and it was blocked! Buffy landed at his side and, without speaking, he lifted her so she could run her hands over the boulder, pressing hard against it but without any success.

He let her down and she glanced up at him, her eyes stormy grey. “That stone’s far too big to have just rolled there by accident. Someone’s deliberately tried to stop us getting out.”

“Well, I don’t suppose there’s any prize for guessing who.”

“Giles? But Spike, he couldn’t move something that size on his own. And Willow would never – ”

“Wake up and smell the coffee, sweetheart! They’re convinced I’ve evolved into some super big bad. They want me dead, Buffy.”

“But they’ll be killing me as well. No, I’m sorry, Spike. Willow would never agree to that.”

”What about Giles?” Spike tried to stop the bitterness he was feeling from sounding in his voice. What was the point? It didn’t matter what he did or said, Rupert Giles would never trust him. And come to that – Spike realised with a start – he’d never trust Buffy’s Watcher again.

Buffy’s face grew paler and, for a second, she appeared to be years older. Spike struggled to control his feelings. He knew that as well as not trusting Giles, he now hated him with a vengeance for making the woman he loved look like this. 

“For the greater good – as he sees it – ” She paused, all the times and conversations she’d had with her Watcher over the years flooding back – “Yes, he’d let me die. Oh, he’d be sad, distraught even, but with Giles it’s always been a case of the many are more important than the one. And let’s face it, there are hundreds of Slayers now. One less won’t matter that much.”

Spike didn’t reply. He glanced over his shoulder and winced as he saw a bright red light appear under the rocks he’d piled over the entrance to the shaft. “Well, we can go on talking about it, Slayer, or we can get the hell out of here. Blob‘s making its way up the tunnel and I don’t think this cave is going to be too healthy once it breaks free!”

Buffy tensed suddenly. “Can you hear anything weird?”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Wondered when you were going to notice.”

From beneath them, deep in the rock shaft where the heaving scarlet filth was boiling, came a deep, thud, thud, thud –

“It’s like – ” Buffy hesitated; this was going to sound really dumb, the sort of thing Xander would have said. 

“A heartbeat?” Spike finished for her.

Buffy shuddered, then nodded. Exactly what was coming for them? What was trying to escape? “The Blob isn’t the enemy after all, is it?” she whispered. “It’s just protecting something, covering it like a shield. Whatever the mist has been feeding, it isn’t the Blob. It’s something else, something way badder.”

“And once again, I think the best place to be when it arrives is Not Here! Look, can you hold me steady if I balance on your shoulders? I might be able to move the sodding boulder.” And he didn‘t need to tell her what would happen to them if he didn’t.

Up above them in the Devil’s Punchbowl, that great hollow in the Surrey countryside, Willow snapped her cell phone shut. Her conversation with Kennedy down in Wales had been horrid. OK the reception had been awful but her lover couldn’t begin to understand what Willow was talking about. Life was fine, she was demon hunting, she’d killed several. What mist? What Plague? Had Willow been drinking too much coffee again?

Couldn’t she hear the anxiety in her voice? She was a strong girl, determined, forceful, but sometimes her lack of sympathy was upsetting. And at the first mention of Buffy being in some sort of trouble, she’d just laughed and said that Buffy was a Slayer. She would cope.

Willow stood, halfway up the muddy slope and stared around for Giles. He’d said he was going to check that Buffy and Spike weren’t on the other side of the stream, and then follow her up to the car-park. How had she missed him? He wasn’t in the car and he hadn’t passed her, she was sure of that. She hesitated: the mist had disappeared, but were they safe now from the feral children? She was too tired to try raising the magic barrier again. The amount of energy that had needed had drained her mentally and emotionally. And she was worried about Buffy. She and Spike seemed to have vanished off the face of he earth.

Giles seemed so sure that Spike had changed into some super vamp. She sighed. She couldn’t really see that it would make much difference. He still loved Buffy, still had the soul he had asked for, was still the man who’d given his life to save the world. Extra strength seemed a fair reward in some ways.

“Willow! Willow! Are you there? We need to get going. Back to London. Fast.”

Thank God, that was Giles. But he obviously hadn’t found Buffy and Spike. She could hear him calling her name. He was scrambling up the steep slope, muttering under his breath as his feet slipped in the mud. Then, for some instinctive reason she would never, ever, fully understand, Willow stepped sideways behind a sprawling bank of bushes and brambles, crouched down out of sight and didn’t reply as he passed, still calling her name.

To be continued


	12. Super-Vamp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Buffy wonders what exactly is "normal"

Forever and a Day

 

Chp 18 Super-vamp

 

England in January and in a cave deep underground in the Devil’s Punchbowl - a vast wild gash in the Surrey countryside, Buffy was bracing her hands against the rock face, holding herself as steady as possible as Spike stood on her shoulders. Although she could take his weight easily, his boots dug hard into her flesh as he shifted around, trying to force the giant boulder above his head away from the entrance to the outside world.

“It would help if I was a foot taller,” he groaned. “Never wished I had Liam’s physique but a few more inches would help. I - can’t – get – enough – purchase on the sodding thing.”

Buffy turned her head and stared back across the cave to where the rocks piled on top of the shaft were beginning to move, pressed from underneath by the vicious red muck that was forcing itself upwards. And all the time, came the steady thud, thud, thud of some giant heartbeat. Something was being carried by the mist, forcing its way to the surface from whatever hell it had lived in for all these centuries.

With a sudden curse, Spike lost his balance and somersaulted neatly to the ground at her side. “Sorry, Slayer. Let’s try again.”

Buffy shook her head. “Waste of time, Spike. We have to get off the ground. Fast!”

Throwing a shower of rocks and stones into the air, the red filth surged upwards, broke through the barrier and began to spread slowly across the cave floor, heat shimmering from the roiling, heaving surface.

Spike leapt onto a ledge and hauled Buffy to his side. There was just room for them both to balance but they were only a couple of feet off the ground. The heat was growing, second by second as the thick crimson spread out to cover the whole cave floor and still pumped up endlessly from beneath them.

Buffy felt Spike’s fingers twine round her. “Any ideas, Slayer?” he muttered. “Being a bloody super-vamp doesn’t seem to help at the moment!”

A shudder of despair ran through her body and then a wave of anger. It couldn’t end like this, trapped in some hell-hole, being burnt alive by demon muck. Not after all they’d gone through, all they’d endured to be together again. She wouldn’t let it end! She squinted up at the boulder she could see better now on the opposite wall of the cave. There was something about the shadows at the top of it - yes, she was right – it wasn’t completely circular, the top of it was definitely flatter.

“Spike – look – top of the boulder – there’s enough room to stand on it then you might be able to kick it out. I’ll throw you across to it. Quick – move!”

But before she could turn, he’d picked her up and she found herself flying effortlessly through the hot air and crashing down onto the rock. “What the – ” She struggled round to yell at her lover.

“You’re stronger than me, Slayer. All that lovely super vamp blood running through Slayer veins? You must be. Go on, pet. Hurry up. This muck’s getting a bit too close for comfort.”

“Stupid vamp!” Buffy flung him a despairing look, then turned back to the rock. She could see a faint line of light showing where the boulder was jammed into the entrance. Gritting her teeth, she tried to jam her fingers into the ridge. If she couldn’t push the boulder out, then perhaps she could pull it back into the cave! For long seconds nothing happened, then the boulder rocked a fraction and she tugged again and again – she – would – make – it – move!

“Hey, Buffy. Love you, pet. Always will.” Spike’s voice was soft but carried across the hissing of the steam and the thud of whatever was trying to climb the shaft.

She gazed back at him and saw, to her horror, that the scarlet goo was now up to the ledge and oozing round his boots. Little flames spun off the surface and she knew that it was finally the end.

She turned and screamed at the boulder, shaking it with every muscle in her body and just as it rocked violently it seemed to receive a giant push from outside and rolled downwards. Like a spider, Buffy scrambled desperately across the top of it and leapt for the entrance as it crashed into the muck below, sending ruby flashes of flame leaping towards her.

She hauled herself upwards to find Willow standing there, her eyes black with magic, shaking with the effort of moving the boulder. Buffy couldn’t even thank her, she spun round to shout to Spike and the words died in her throat.

The heaving heat was now up to his knees but even as she watched, the moan of loss caught in her throat, the vampire picked up first one foot, then the other and walked across the surface, through the boiling heat, as if he was wading through toffee.

Strands of muck clung to his legs, but he wasn’t on fire, wasn’t turning to dust, and with a leap he was out of it, standing by her side, his face blank as he watched the red hellfire drop from his body and crumble to dirt on the damp ground. Then his gaze clashed with Buffy’s, but there was no need for words between them. What she was feeling, what she’d just gone through in the last few minutes was written on her face.

“Hi, Willow,” he said at last, glancing over Buffy’s shoulder. “Good timing!”

“Hi, Spike,” she whispered, her eyes shuddering back to normal. “You walked – across all that – and the heat – you should have – Giles was right – not normal – Buffy!“

“Told you to try the stake trick, luv,” Spike said. “It would have worked. Super-vamp in more ways than one, eh?” His blue eyes blazed at her and she marvelled that even now he could make her head spin with desire.

Her mind refused to compute what this new power would mean to them. That he couldn’t be killed – OK, that was a given. But did it apply to all methods of slaughter. Would he be able to walk in the sunlight or was that one step too far? And other vampires? That was obviously what was behind Giles’ deadly determination to kill Spike. And for a brief second she pitied her ex Watcher. A world full of untouchable vamps. A world in which Slayers would become redundant and could be easily killed even by something that had just risen from its grave.

“Look, we can’t deal with all this now,” Buffy said, reaching out to briefly touch his hand, to reassure herself that this wasn’t some wacky dream and she would wake up to find herself alone again. “Will, yes, Spike does seem to have some pretty new powers but he’s still Spike. He’s not evil, just more obnoxious than usual.”

“Hey, Slayer, standing right here!”

“Later.”

“Pomises, promises.”

Willow stared past them down into the cavern which was slowly filling up. “That noise, Buffy, it’s like – ”

“A heartbeat, yes, that’s what we reckon. Listen, can you jam another rock in the entrance? I don’t think anything can stop it, but we need to slow it down to give us time to think.”

“I – I’m not sure, Buffy. It took a heck of a lot of magic to move the boulder. I’m not certain I can do it again. Who put it there?”

Spike and Buffy glanced at each other. “It had to be Giles,” Buffy said at last. “It didn’t just roll there on its own. I’m sorry, Will, but there's no other way it could have happened.”

The red-head didn’t look surprised. She bit her lip, remembering that weird feeling she’d had when Giles passed her as he climbed out of the Punchbowl. As if – as if it wasn’t really Giles at all! A shiver of terror ran through her body. The strength he would have needed to lift the massive rock was unbelievable.

Buffy could sense how scared and unhappy her friend was, but knew she couldn’t do this without her. “Look, Will, we’ll both help you. How about that one over there? It looks big enough.”

The next few minutes passed in a blur of pain. Buffy and Spike between them lifted the rock a few inches off the ground and Willow, with a burst of purple energy, moved it upwards. At the last moment, her power gave out and it was left to Buffy and Spike to force it into the gap. 

Buffy could feel the heat coming out of the cavern and wondered how long they would have before the surging mass of filth pushed their barrier aside as if it was weightless.

She sank down on the muddy ground and groaned as the pain in her muscles kicked in. Willow was sitting slumped, her back against a tree trunk, her head buried in her hands. Only Spike was still on his feet, pacing backwards and forwards, gazing up at the overcast sky and the path that led upwards towards the far distant rim of the Punchbowl. He’d stared down at his legs, almost unable to believe they hadn’t been burnt, that he was still there. He didn’t feel any different, but he was longing for the sky to clear, for the sun to shine, to try out his new powers once and for all.

Under their feet, the distant thud continued.

“Do you think Giles will be coming back?” Buffy asked at last when her breath returned.

Willow raised her head and tried to rub the dirt off her hands. “No, I reckon he’s gone. But, Buffy, what the heck’s going on? OK, I can understand why he might be worried about Spike – sorry, Spike! – because hey, super-vamp, not a happy thought especially because not chipped, but why try and kill you? It doesn’t make any sense. Unless - ”

“He knows I won’t allow him to destroy Spike,” Buffy said wearily. “But that’s nothing new. He was like that in Sunnydale – before – well, before.”

“So he’s quite happy for you to die?”

Buffy shrugged. “Lots of Slayers around now, Will. He knows I’m not indispensable any more.”

“But Buffy, this is Giles!”

“Is there a chance, any chance at all, that he’s come in contact with the mist?” Spike asked.

Willow gazed up at him, her eyes wide. “What? The mist? No, no, I got the barrier up really quickly. Well, I thought it was quick. I’m OK. Hey, you do believe I’m OK, don’t you?” Spike waved an impatient hand at her and she went on, “We were in the car when we realised what was happening. It had begun to snow. The mist was beginning to appear. Giles told me to start some sort of barrier to protect us. Then he – ” she stopped.

“Then he what?” Buffy asked sharply.

“He got out of the car to clear the snow from the wipers. But Buffy, he was back inside again within seconds and I had the barrier up and working. It didn’t have time to touch him. It couldn’t have! And he seemed perfectly normal. He didn’t turn into a little boy. He’s still Giles.”

Buffy reached out a hand and Spike pulled her to his feet, giving her a brief hug as she leant against him. “The old Rupert Giles would have had trouble lifting a heavy suitcase, let alone a five ton rock, Will! Whoever or whatever he’s become, he’s dangerous.”

“What do you want to do?” Spike asked. “Find him? Work out what he's become? Could get nasty, pet. We’re both stronger and I’m – well, I don’t reckon he can hurt me now, but you and Red are still vulnerable if he’s become that powerful.”

Buffy shook her head. She’d learnt a long time ago that friends, enemies, even family could never be put in front of the mission. There might be hundreds of other Slayers out there in the world, but she was the one standing here. She was the one who was going to have to deal with this situation. “Giles isn’t our main problem. Listen! Whatever’s coming is coming fast now.”

She stared at the entrance to the cavern. She could see sullen red light gleaming all around the boulder they’d placed there. And the sound was definitely louder. Something was coming up out of the ground, something that had been lying dormant for centuries was about to burst out into the English countryside and there were just the three of them standing in its way.

To be continued

 

 

“


	13. Her DecisionIn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Buffy asks a question and answers it herself!

Forever and a Day

Chp 13 Her decision

In the depths of The Devil’s Punchbowl in the heart of the English countryside, Buffy stood shoulder to shoulder between Spike and Willow, never taking her gaze from where the blood red light glowed around the edges of the boulder they’d placed across the entrance to the underground tunnels.

She could feel her lover’s cold fingers wrapped tightly round her own, skin to skin, flesh to flesh. Once mystical flames had licked between their hands, fusing their owners together in a way she didn’t fully understand. All she did know was that since she’d discovered he was still alive, no matter how dire and dreadful the shocks that the world threw at them, she was joyfully happy.

Buffy could feel the thud of the monster heartbeat – if that was what it was - shuddering through the earth beneath her feet. She had no idea what could possibly live in that filthy red-hot muck that had oozed out of the pit, but whatever it was, it had fed well on the mist and was now wide awake and anxious to be up and doing whatever – 

“Willow – exactly what does this Thing want to do?”

The redhead cast an anxious glance in her direction. She’d been trying desperately to think of a holding spell strong enough to stop what was coming, but she knew all she could do was slow it down, not stop it. “What do you mean, Buffy? It’s an evil – thingy. What do they ever want?”

Spike grinned, not taking his eyes off the boulder Giles had somehow managed to roll across the entrance. Bloody hell! The mist had a lot to answer for. Vamps were now indestructible and Giles – why had it given him such strength and not changed him from adult to child? Was it because he was a Watcher? Had all of that group been changed too? “Even evil thingys as you call them usually have a plan, Red.”

“Yes, that’s what I mean,” Buffy said swiftly. “We’ve fought too many demons and monsters over the past few years not to know that. I mean, jeez, why’s it coming here? We’re standing at the bottom of a huge muddy hollow in rural England. I mean, we’re not even in London. Is it going to – I don’t know – ooze its way up to the road and start killing motorists? Lurch into town and have lunch? It’s gone to a lot of bother over centuries and centuries to get here and do - what? ”

“Buffy, it probably doesn’t think like we do. It probably doesn’t even think. It just – exists. Maybe it’s a sort of killing machine,” Willow said.

Spike glanced at Buffy. There was a streak of mud adorning one cheek and a scratch across the other that was oozing blood just enough to make his mouth automatically water. The blonde hair he loved to feel on his face and other parts of his anatomy was tangled and dirty. She was frowning: he knew that frown. He had the feeling that this was one of those Slayer moments he loved her for, when she stood back from the problem and looked at it from a completely different point of view. “What are you trying to figure out, pet?”

Buffy shook her head, dropped his hand then turned and walked a few yards away from the crimson-rimmed boulder. 

“Where are you going?” Willow almost squeaked with alarm. “Buffy – don’t leave me to fight it on my own. Not good with the hands on part, you know and keeping that barrier up to protect Giles and me has left me a bit squiffy.”

“I don’t think it’s meant to be coming to the surface here in the Devil’s Punchbowl,” Buffy said slowly. “It doesn’t make sense. There’s nothing here but mud and trees and bushes.”

“Then why is it – ” Spike stopped suddenly. “Sod it! You think we woke it up!”

Buffy shook her head. “No, it was already awake, waiting for the mist – it needed to feed. But when we invaded its space, I think it sensed us and decided to attack. Listen, Spike, when we followed the mist down there and first saw the Blobby thing, it was what - forty, thirty feet down the crevasse? Then, remember, suddenly, as we arrived, it began surging upwards.”

Spike walked backwards to join her. “You think it was attracted to us? That it didn’t mean to leave its nice little hell hole right now, but the thought of some nice tender vampire and slayer steaks made its journey worthwhile?”

“But Buffy, you can’t know that?” Willow said earnestly. “We can hear that heartbeat – something’s down there and coming closer every minute. It doesn’t matter why. We’ve got to stand and fight it.”

Buffy shook her head. “No, we don’t. That’s the whole point. Will, walk away. Come over here. We’re going to move up the slope. No talking, no noise at all.” 

“Buffy! Let me do some type of barrier spell. I know it won’t do much good, but at least – ”

“No! Trust me on this. The battle isn’t here and now. I’m certain of that.”

There was a long pause as Willow struggled with her desire to use what magic she had left against her belief in her friend’s instincts. She stared at the couple standing there, hands linked, bodies touching. Spike was so strong now, she could sense that. And Buffy – there was a change in her, too, but whether it was all good, Willow didn’t know. She sighed. They were a powerful combination; she was sure that even with magic on her side she didn’t think she could stop them doing what they wanted to do.

But if they were wrong….

She walked softly up the muddy path and together the three of them edged backwards, not speaking, being careful not to tread on twigs or branches, to make as little noise as possible.

Twenty yards up the path, Buffy stopped. She glanced at her companions and silently pointed back to where the huge boulder sat across the entrance to the cave system. The bright red light that had been pulsing around the rock had gone and at the same moment, Willow realised that the pounding heartbeat under her feet had vanished.

“It’s gone!” she whispered. “Buffy – you were right.”

Spike grinned and hugged the Slayer, licking the cut across her cheek with a swift lap of his tongue, enjoying the shudder that ran through her at his touch. “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, Summers, you’re a hell of a woman!”

Buffy sighed. She sensed that they thought this was the end of the problem, but she knew it wasn’t. It was the first battle – not the war. She gave herself two long seconds, letting Spike hold her close, feeling the steel of his body against hers, then reluctantly pulled herself away. “We haven’t defeated it. Only tricked it into going back to doing whatever it was doing before we arrived on the scene,” she said wearily. 

Willow sat down abruptly on the muddy path, as if her legs could no longer carry her. “So – what do we do next?”

Buffy snapped a twig off a bush and stood, pinching off the leaves. She was so tired of being the one who had to make all the decisions. It would have been wonderful if Willow had come up with a plan, an idea, something. If only Giles was here. But not the new, creepy version of Giles, whatever that was, but the old one, the one who planned and did research and helped. But, like it or not, that Giles was no longer part of her life. She glanced at Spike and the warmth of his expression lifted her heart as she realised with a sense of relief that this decision wasn’t just hers alone – the vampire had already worked out what she was going to say.

“We don’t have any choice, do we, pet?” he said softly.

Buffy shook her head and gazed down at Willow’s confused face. “We have to follow it, Will. Go back into the caves, find out what it is and where it’s heading. Then I kill it.”

A mud-streaked trio clambered up the track out of the Devil’s Punchbowl. Spike and Buffy walked on either side of Willow, ready to help her up the steepest, slippery parts of the path. The witch looked and sounded exhausted, at the end of her strength. Buffy had exchanged a private look with the vampire and then insisted that they needed to rest and eat before they followed the crimson light back into the tunnels.

“A hot shower would be great, although perhaps that’s asking too much.”

“You and Spike don’t need to rest, though, do you?” Willow said shrewdly, wishing she didn’t feel so tired.

“Not tired, but still hungry, Red,” Spike said. “I’m ravenous.” He glanced up at the dull, sullen sky. The snow had stopped falling, the mist had vanished, but there was no sign of the sun breaking through. He felt he would have given an arm and a leg for just one bag of pig’s blood.

Buffy glared at her lover. “You’re just dying for the sun to appear so you can check out the ‘I’m Invincible’ clause in your new vampire contract, aren’t you?”

Spike smirked. “Well, pet, you must admit it’s pretty cool. Long time since I got to sit in the sun.”

“Spike, we don’t know that you’re safe from sunlight. You could just vanish in a cloud of dust. And if that happens, I will not be pleased!”

Spike started to come back with another quip, then stopped. He had heard the underlying worry and fear under her words. He reached a hand out behind Willow’s back as they clambered up the path and felt her fingers reach out and twine round his. “I reckon if molten muck can’t kill me, then nor can sunshine, but I promise I won’t take any risks, well, no more than you probably will trying to kill that thing, whatever it is.”

Buffy smiled at him, wishing she could stop worrying. But ever since New Year’s Eve when she’d turned round in the street to discover who’d rescued her from the muggers and found Spike standing there, she’d had the feeling that this second chance they’d been given could so easily be taken away again. OK, the Plague mist had apparently made him invincible, but who knew how long that would last? It could just be a temporary fix and he could revert to ordinary vampire powers even without realising it had happened.

“Buffy – what do we do if we find the wild children are still – wild - that they haven’t turned back into adults?” Willow stopped again to catch her breath.

“No reason for them to revert, that I can see,” Spike said. “If me and Buffy still have our powers – and obviously Giles does if the size of that boulder he lifted is anything to go by – then the kids will probably stay the same as well.”

“That’s awful. You mean they’ll never go back to being the people they were? Buffy, we have to do something.”

“Will, I’m hoping when we kill the cave monster, then the power of the plague mist will fade. Perhaps then the kids will change back.”

“You don’t sound very certain.”

Buffy felt a flash of irritation. Why was Willow being so critical? She was a Slayer – that’s what she did, Slayed. She wasn’t little Miss Research Girl.

“Look, when we get some decent phone reception, I’ll call Kennedy and ask her to hit the books. We need research big style. We’re fighting in the dark all the time. We’ve lurched from one disaster to another and now that Giles isn’t on our side, we must have some extra input. I don’t think it’s sensible for you to just rush off and follow this thing.”

“OK. Sounds like a plan,” Buffy said quietly.

They continued slowly upwards through the saplings and bracken, dead twigs snapping under their feet. Buffy glanced back down into the great hollow, but the cavern entrance had vanished from sight. As they crested the last few yards, the car park came into view and the A3, the road that ran right round the rim of the Punchbowl. Spike scanned the area, searching for any trace of Giles. He had a nasty feeling that at some time in the not too distant future they were going to have to have a reckoning with Buffy’s ex Watcher.

“There’s the car,” Willow said. “But no sign of Giles. Where the heck can he have gone?”

“At the moment I’m finding it hard to care. If you hadn’t removed Rocky we might well be out of the game altogether. And luckily there’s no sign of any of those kids,” Buffy said thankfully. She’d had a horror of having to fight off another gang of feral children; feared she might have to kill one if they came at her in a pack.

The mist had vanished completely leaving a sullen January day. The snow was melting but it was still bitterly cold. Buffy glanced at Willow; her friend was shivering violently. She was still wearing the lightweight coat and boots she’d travelled in from London. Buffy touched her hand – it was icy cold. “Willow, you need to get indoors and warm up. You’re exhausted. Look – over the road – that hotel. We’ll get rooms and hopefully something to eat. And I need a map. A big one.”

Willow’s teeth were chattering; the effort of keeping the magic barrier erected around her and Giles for such a long time, especially when they’d been walking and driving, had drained her of every ounce of strength she possessed. And she was scared because she knew how vulnerable she was to the dark side of magic when she was in this state. It was so easy to magic yourself dry, new clothes, light a fire from nothing, produce food to eat. All of which was harmless. But the slide into doing things which were not so innocent was so easy to start and once you began, it was impossible to stop.

“You must be cold, too,” she muttered to Buffy as they ran across the road and up the steps to the hotel lobby.

“Oh, not so much. But dirty, yes. And very, very hungry.” Buffy peered round the hallway; there was a bell push on the reception desk and she banged her hand down on it. The ‘ping’ rang out, but no one appeared. “Where is everyone?” she muttered. “Did the mist get them all? If so, where are the kids?”

Spike flung open the door into the bar and vaulted across the counter to get to the bottles stacked on the shelves behind. “I reckon people fled in front of it, pet. You know, bad news spreads fast. Phone calls, e-mails of something nasty happening further south. People probably just panicked, packed up, got in their cars and left.” He poured himself a large Scotch and downed it in one gulp.

Buffy shuddered and helped herself to a can of soda and a packet of salted peanuts. She was ravenous and realised that the hunger was growing more and more every second. 

“Buffy – the hot water works!” Willow’s jubilant shout from upstairs echoed down the stairway. “I’m going to have a bath.”

“Great! No problem, Will. Hey, remember to call Kennedy. Explain about the research we need doing.”

“OK. See you both later. We’ll sit and figure this out, slowly and sensibly, just like Giles would do if he was still Giles!” There was the slamming of a door, then silence.

Buffy stared at Spike, then nodded her head towards the front door. He frowned for a second, then understanding dawned in his eyes. Silently, they sped across the lobby and clambered into the big car that Willow and Giles had driven to Hindhead. Buffy dug down the side of the door and found a map book as Spike turned the keys and with a spurt of mud from the wheels, they shot off down the road. “Red won’t be happy about this,” the vampire said.

“I know, but we can’t take her with us. She’s exhausted already. That barrier she put up to protect her and Giles has taken everything out of her.”

“And it didn’t protect Rupert that well.”

“I think he was infected before she raised it,” Buffy said, trying to follow the route they were taking with her finger. “Are you driving west?”

“Yes, reckoned you’d want to head that way. You think the monster is going in that direction, don’t you?”

Buffy nodded. “The tunnel we went down ran east to west and we know it came from the east. Whatever it is, it’s heading west.”

“So you never meant to go back underground to follow it?”

“There wouldn’t be any point. I don’t want to be behind it. I want to get in front. To be there when it arrives. Take it by surprise. We can’t do that if we’re tagging along behind it shouting, “Stop, monster!”

Spike frowned and swerved to avoid a small herd of cows who’d wandered through a broken fence onto the road. “Couldn’t you have explained that to Red? Told her where we were going? Where are we going, by the way?”

Buffy bit her lip. “We’ll handle it better on our own, Spike.”

The vampire glanced sharply at her for a second. He’d seen that expression on her face before. “You don’t trust her? Come on, pet, she bloody well saved us. She magiced the boulder away from the cave entrance. She’s not infected by the mist. What’s not to trust?”

There was a long silence and finally, he swung the car onto the grass verge and braked sharply. They sat gazing out over the quiet English countryside, Buffy’s breath misting the inside of the windows. She leant forward and rubbed a clear space with her hand.

“Come on, sweetheart. What am I missing? Willow’s on our side, isn’t she?”

Buffy wriggled in her seat. She could feel her stomach growling. She was so hungry! The packet of peanuts she’d eaten back at the hotel had done nothing to stop the pangs. “I don’t know, Spike, and that’s the truth. All she seems to want is for us to slow down, do research, not kill the monster.”

“That’s just Red being cautious. You know she’s never been the one in the front of the gang waving a big stick.”

“I know that.” Buffy hesitated. How could she put into words what she felt; that somehow Willow seemed a different person now. A different type of person from her. Spike had changed, she had changed herself and they knew Giles had changed. But Willow? Willow had stayed the same and now Buffy realised that that was what made her feel alien. Being a human being was no longer normal. “I can’t explain, Spike. You’ll just have to trust me on this.”

Spike pulled her close and kissed her. “Mmmmm, long time since we had any time on our own, sweetheart. Well, on our own without having to escape with our lives every other moment. If I hate this monster for anything, it’s that it’s stopping us being together!”

Buffy grinned at his irritated tone. “Just concentrate on your driving, vamp boy. Put us in a ditch and I won’t be happy.”

Spike started the engine and swung the car back onto the road. “And where exactly are we heading, pet? Or rather, where do you reckon the Plague monster is going?”

Buffy stared down at the map, her eyes travelling westwards from Hindhead, across southern England. She was looking for a clue, something, somewhere old, very old. Winchester Cathedral? That was old and certainly in the right direction, but somehow this didn’t feel like a religious sort of apocalypse. This was older, far older. Then her gaze swivelled a little further west and a chill ran over her body. Her finger jabbed down on the page. “There, Spike. That must be it. I bet that’s where it’s heading. It’s going to Stonehenge!”

 

tbc


	14. The Waiting Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Giles tries to explain....

Forever and a Day

Chp 14

The waiting game

 

As Giles walked wearily into the foyer of the Hindhead Hotel, he stopped in mid stride. Willow was sitting there, hunched up in a big leather chair, gazing into space. Even from a distance he could see the streaks of tears on her cheeks. She blinked and stared up at Giles, her expression defiant. “They’re not here,” she said. “They’ve gone.”

Giles sank down in a chair opposite her. “And left you behind? Deliberately, I imagine.”

Willow shrugged away the hurt. She would never tell anyone how devastated she’d felt when she’d come downstairs after speaking to Kennedy on the phone to find Buffy and Spike had tricked her and left.

For long seconds the woman who was still the most powerful witch in the world, the one who had almost brought that same world to an end, vanished. All her old lack of confidence had reared its ugly head and she was the dorky girl at school whom no one liked, who was always the last to be picked for a team, who had few friends, who wasn’t cool enough for the popular kids to play with.

“Why did you try to kill them?” she asked quietly. She wasn’t scared of Giles – jeez, she knew that even as tired as she was, she had enough power at her command to squash him like a bug if he tried to attack her no matter how strong he’d become. “Spike – well, I guess I can understand that – you’ve never liked him or trusted him, have you? – but Buffy? Giles, whatever’s happened to you, what has the mist done - how could you try to kill Buffy?”

Giles took off his glasses and dabbed ineffectually at them with the end of his tie. His eyes looked strained and tired and Willow felt her heart contract a little as she realised how many new worry lines were forming round them. He seemed to have aged over the past few days.

“Willow – believe me – I didn’t know I’d been…changed…by the mist until I lifted up that enormous boulder to block the cave entrance. Believe me, I wouldn’t have lied to you, or pretended if I’d known. I really thought your wonderful magic barrier had stopped the Plague reaching us. Obviously it didn’t touch you. I’m glad about that.”

The redhead waved her hand imperiously. “I know about the mist, Giles. Heard the monster it was feeding. I’ve seen it changing all those poor people back into kids. I know it’s made you super strong, OK, I get that. But you still haven’t answered my question. Why try to kill your Slayer? And are you going to try and kill me next? Because, honestly, Giles, bad idea!”

“Believe me, I have no intention of killing you, Willow. And I don’t understand why the mist has made me so strong. Unless it has something to do with being a Watcher. But what I do know and believe in every nerve of my body is that it has changed Buffy and Spike and not in a good way.”

“But Giles, they’re together, fighting this new threat. All they want to do is solve the puzzle, kill the monster and get back to ordinary life again.”

Giles smashed his fist into his palm, making the girl in front of him jump. “Ordinary! Willow – Spike’s become invincible – and as far as I can work out, all vampires are now invincible. Do I have to tell you what that means? WE CAN’T KILL THEM. EVER!”

“But Buffy – ”

Giles buried his head in his hands. “God Willow, don’t you think my head feels as if it’s going to explode every time I think about this? Yes, she looks like Buffy, talk and acts like her, but she isn’t her, She’s fed on Spike and whatever is in his blood that makes it impossible to destroy him, it’s now inside her veins, making her stronger, a super Slayer.”

“But killing her, Giles?”

“She isn’t Buffy any more. I don’t know what she is, but there is no way I can allow her and an invincible vampire to do exactly what they want to do. How could you even start to think I could?”

Willow looked bewildered. “No, Giles, that doesn’t make sense. OK, Spike, invincible, so you say. Well, how do you know? We’ve come across lots of these “you-can’t-kill-me” types before and they’ve all been vanquished eventually. And Buffy, she is still herself! I’d swear she is. And she’s trying to make things better. She’ll find this Plague monster and kill it. I know she will.”

Giles stood up and strode across the hall to the main door. He stared out at the heavy grey sky. The village of Hindhead lay deserted in front of him. Evening was falling now. Back in the States that would have been the time when the vampires would start to appear. But here, in England, they could now walk the earth at any time because the sun couldn’t touch them.

“You admit you’ve changed – you’re strong now – but you’re still you,” Willow called out angrily. “So why won’t you accept that Buffy is still Buffy?”

Giles felt a great weariness flood over him. His newfound strength didn’t seem to have the ability to stop him feeling tired, he thought wryly. And he was - to the bone. He felt the bitter taste of sheer exhaustion in his mouth and realised how weary he was of his life as a Watcher.

He could still remembered how he’d felt once Buffy and Willow had enabled all the would be Slayers following the Sunnydale apocalypse. They’d thought life would be so easy for them all. But he hadn’t believed that for one second. Even as it happened and they defeated the First, he was calculating what would happen. Because they’d never taken into account that you could awaken hundreds of girls to Slayerhood but every Slayer needed a Watcher and there just weren’t enough.

He, himself, had sixteen girls in Europe who called him their Watcher. At any time he had to be ready to help, advise, teach. The phone rang without stopping, day and night. With the majority of the Council gone, those who were left had spent every hour of every day contacting elderly Watchers, men and women who’d retired years before, dragging them out of their comfortable homes and lives to face demons, vampires and monsters once again. And youngsters of eighteen and twenty, still in training, anxiously flicking through reference books every time they faced a problem, had been given five or six Slayers each to look after. There had been enormous casualties, and most of them had been due to the amateurs that were running the show.

But at least they’d had one advantage: the demon world had been fairly routine for a while. Vampires, the odd demon on the prowl. But this Plague was something no one knew about. And he was one of the few people who had the experience to know that it was only going to get worse now vampires could no longer be killed.

Buffy wasn’t Buffy any longer. The girl he had looked after so carefully for so long had gone - at last. He rubbed his eyes – they were watering – probably because he was so tired. His Slayer had gone and he had to react just as if a vampire or demon had killed her years ago. He knew Willow would never understand – he didn’t know anyone who would.

The redheaded witch crossed to his side. She stared out at the darkness of the January evening. “What are you going to do, Giles?”

He wondered grimly what she would say if he replied, ‘Go home, pour myself a large Scotch, listen to some cool jazz, and forget about everything.’ He didn’t think Willow would be very impressed. Even as powerful as she was, the American girl expected him to come up with an answer to the problem.

“I’m going to follow them, Willow. I’m sorry, but I have no choice.”

“And then you’ll try to kill them?”

He hesitated. “I can’t kill Spike. I think the only thing that can defeat him is the monster they’re hunting. I’ll need to rely on that.”

Willow turned and looked up at him, her eyes huge in her pale, tear-stained face. She had to pinch herself to recognise that this was Rupert Giles, the man who’d fought against Evil for so long. “You’re going to help the Plague monster?”

The disbelief, bewilderment and pain in her voice cut him to the bone. They had shared such a lot in their lives; pain, trouble, addiction, grief and happiness. But he felt that deep down he’d always had her respect. But now as she looked at him, asking that vital question, he could see that respect fading away and being replaced by a kind of disgust.

He took a deep breath, realising that this moment was where all his training and years of experience had been heading. “The mist has fed the monster; the damage has been done and yes, it’s tragic and dreadful, but I have to discover what it wants and if there’s any way to reverse what it’s done to vampires. And if there isn’t, then I need it to tell me how to eliminate them, because, by God, Willow, the Plague monster is the only thing that can. And if that means I have to help it, then – I will!”

* * * *

Eight miles north of Salisbury, on a bitterly cold, wind-swept plain, the circle of stones that had stood for over five thousand years ignored the icy rain and wind that tore at their unyielding sides.

Stonehenge was waiting….

Then from miles away back along a deserted road, headlights cut through the night and the blare of of rock music shattered the silence.

tbc


	15. Changling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Spike tries to tell Buffy the truth....

Forever and a Day

Chapter 15: Changling

 

It was the silence that woke Buffy. The thumping bass beat and raucous singing of whatever disc Spike had found to play in the car had lulled her to sleep. When it stopped, she swam back to consciousness, wondering at first why she was lying at such an odd angle, then realising that she had her head tucked against the vampire’s shoulder.

Cold lips touched hers. “Wakey wakey, Goldilocks!”

“Why have we stopped?”

“Well, pet, judging by that large, ominous looking structure over there, I reckon we’ve reached Stonehenge.”

Buffy yawned widely, rubbed her eyes and peered out at where the headlights from the car shone twin beams across short, sheep-grazed grass to where the giant stones stood, surrounded by security fencing. “It all looks peaceful enough.”

Spike shrugged. “Middle of the night in January. Only living things around here at the moment are sheep.”

“So Mr Plague Demon hasn’t tunnelled his way here yet,” Buffy said thoughtfully. “Maybe he isn’t moving as fast as we’d feared.”

“Well, I must admit that I broke a few speed limits on the way. But even so, thought there might be a little smoke or glowing red lights or something to greet us. So, what do we do next? Just sit here and wait?”

Buffy grinned at the exasperation in his voice. “That’s my William. The thought of doing nothing for all of, oh, ten minutes or so – not such a turn-on!”

The vampire grabbed her with a speed that could still surprise her and gave her a long, lingering kiss. When she started to make happy purring noises in her throat, he pushed her away with a wicked smile. “Right, no time for relaxing, sweetheart. Move your arse. Demons to kill. Worlds to save. Now, now, no pouting! You were the one who objected to me sitting here doing nothing.”

Buffy sighed and got out of the car. “Remember to remind me to tell you how much I hate you once we’ve finished with Plaguey.”

Spike switched off the headlights and let his eyes adjust to the dark once more. The night was cold but clear. No sodding mist so that was one problem less to deal with. The dark bulk of the ancient standing stones and the heavy lintels that lay on top of some of them showed black against a dark, cloudless sky. A breeze skipped across the emptiness of Salisbury Plain, bringing the smell of rain, wet grass and sheep.

Leaving the car, they crossed to the twelve foot high, double layered security fence. Buffy leapt effortlessly to the top and jumped down to the other side. With a swish of leather, Spike flung himself at the fence, climbed, swung over and, like a cat, landed at her side.

They glanced at each other, not needing words to express how easy that had been. Buffy bit her lip: stronger, faster, sight, smell and hearing – every aspect of her skills was improving. Except for the hunger. She was still starving; the bag of peanuts she’d eaten hours ago back at the hotel in Hindhead seemed like a distant dream.

“You feel it, too, pet, don’t you?” Spike said softly as they prowled towards the stone circle. “The change that’s happened to us.”

“Well, I don’t feel invincible, but certainly far stronger.”

“I wonder if Giles is getting stronger, too? Sodding hell, he’ll turn into Superman next – and the thought of Giles in tights and little shorts – I think I’ll stake myself! Oh no. Won’t make any difference, will it?”

Buffy reached the first giant stone and stood, her hand touching the rough, cold surface. “Worrying about Giles right now is useless. Whatever he’s become, it isn’t going to help us get rid of Plague Demon boy.”

Spike frowned. Typical Slayer. Tunnel vision. Nothing mattered but the kill in front of her. But he thought in this case his lover was wrong. Giles – and whatever he had become or was becoming – was very important. “You seem to be taking all this change we’re going through very calmly, pet. Aren’t you even a little bit concerned?”

Buffy threw herself down on the short, frost covered turf and leant against one of the vast stones. “Sure, it worries me that you think you’re invincible now. That you’re going to do something incredibly stupid – like walking out into the sunlight for fun, if the sun ever shines again!”

Spike sprawled next to her, gazing up at ragged clouds that were now flying across the sky, driven by the chill wind. There was no moon, but odd stars were appearing as the night slid past. “OK, Slayer, that’s me, but what about you? Buffy, you can’t just ignore the fact that you vaulted over that fence just now without even touching it. Even back in Sunnydale, a few years ago, when you were trained to the hilt when you were fighting Glory, or when you tackled and defeated the First, you wouldn’t have been able to do that.”

Buffy wriggled impatiently, trying to get comfortable on the cold ground. “What are you trying to say?”

Spike hesitated – he could hear the irritation in her voice, that he would have to tread carefully. But bloody hell, if he couldn’t talk to her, who could? “You’re changing – you know it, I know, Rupert knows it. Yes, you’re getting stronger all the time, but – you’re not invincible, pet. I think vampires are, but not humans, even Slayers. Yet you seem determined to go up against this plague demon alone.”

Buffy stood up and walked away a couple of yards, standing with her back towards him, staring into the ring of Stonehenge. “Alone? When did that happen? You have somewhere else to go, something else you’d rather be doing? Well, don’t let me keep you.”

Spike leapt to his feet, vamping out and back again. “Now you’re just being plain stupid, Slayer. You know I’ll always have your back.”

She spun round, her eyes glittering in the starlight. “Don’t call me stupid, Spike. Listen, I love you – I always will – but this job comes first. You know that. Do I think I can’t be killed? No, but I don’t think it’s going to be nearly as easy to get rid of me now as the plague demon thinks.”

“Why do you have to do it on your own? There’s a whole flock of Slayers around. You could whistle up Kennedy for a start and she’s not the only one in England, I bet.”

Buffy didn’t answer, just turned and walked away from him, into the inner circle, resting her hands on the next standing stone. She stretched out her arms, trying to ease the ache in her muscles. One part of her recognised that what Spike was saying made sense, but another part just wanted him to stop. Couldn’t he feel, see, sense how strong she was now? Why was he being so negative? Was it his soul that was tempering his fighting spirit. Surely the old Spike would have flung himself head-long into whatever battle came his way.

She’d only been really drunk a couple of times in her life but this feeling inside her was a similar sensation. Her blood was fizzing, racing round her body. She was hungry but didn’t know what she wanted to eat. She ached but not in a bad way. She wanted to fight or grab Spike and have sex with him, here inside Stonehenge. 

Spike followed her. “Listen, Buffy, and don’t go all Slayer on me. The plague mist is in my blood and when I forced you to feed on me, it moved into you. It’s changing you and fast. But not just physically. The old Buffy wouldn’t have risked doing this alone. She’d have involved me, the Scoobies, used the whole gang in some way.”

Buffy stared at the man she loved so much. A little voice, far, far away inside her head told her that he was right. That it wasn’t just physical strength she was gaining – she was losing her judgement of dangerous situations, almost as if danger no longer existed…. Danger? There was no danger! She laughed suddenly, reached out and kissed Spike. “Stop being such a poop!” she said with a grin. “You sound just like Giles in one of his grumpy moods. All gloomy and doomy and heavy with the warnings of disaster.”

“Buffy - ?” Alarmed, Spike tried to pull away, but she held his face between hands like steel and kissed him again.

“There is no danger, Spike. Just a demon coming our way and – ” she let him go and placed a hand against one of the stones – “Listen – I can hear him. He’s nearly here! Hey, this’ll be fun!”

 

to be continued


	16. A New Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Buffy and Spike make a big decision...

Forever and a Day by Lilachigh

Chp. 16 A New Adventure

A few miles from Stonehenge, a small sports car roared along the empty road, its headlights slashing through the dark, sending the odd sheep in its way leaping to safety on the frost bitten grass of Salisbury Plain.

Rupert Giles was driving, his face a mask of cold concentration. The tracker device that he’d had inside his car, the same car that Buffy and Spike had driven away, had made them easy to follow. His mouth twisted in a smile that had not the slightest touch of humour in it. Modern technology! It was Kennedy who'd insisted that this was a new world since the last apocalypse. She wanted every Watcher to have all the latest gadgets to help them in their fight. Giles had struggled to understand. He had the feeling that every time he touched one of these little toys, he broke it! But if Kennedy’s gizmos helped him find Buffy, then he would never think a nasty thought about her again.

At his side, the bundle of car rugs and coats stirred and Willow’s tousled red head appeared. “Have we found them?” she asked, gazing at the little screen Giles had propped on the dashboard in front of him.

The two yellow lights, one stationary, one moving, were getting closer and closer. “They’re at Stonehenge,” Giles replied briefly.

“Oh!” Willow pushed the rugs aside and sat up. “I’ve always wanted to go there. But hey, only for the Summer Solstice with the sun coming up at dawn and everyone singing and dancing and – ”

“Buffy obviously feels that’s where the Plague Demon is going to appear next. Perhaps that’s where it’s been heading all this time.”

Willow nibbled at a rough edge of her thumbnail. “Giles, none of this makes any sort of sense, does it?”

He gave her a swift sideways glance. She was such a strange mixture. Sometimes because she was so deeply into the magical side of life, people forgot that Willow had a streak of commonsense and logic a mile wide.

“What would the Plague Demon want at Stonehenge? OK, much mystical goodness, I’m sure, but it doesn’t seem to need any help, if you know what I mean. It’s all with the mist and the plague and changing adults into children and making vamps invincible and Slayers super strong. What else can it possibly need?”

“Does it have to need something?”

Willow gazed out of the window as the dark countryside flashed past. Giles was driving too fast, but she knew it was pointless asking him to slow down. She had an idea, well, more of a feeling than an idea, one that was hard to put into words. She struggled to clear her head: perhaps everything that had happened wasn’t about what the demon needed; it was what those people that strayed into his path needed! 

Didn’t most adults yearn to be children once more? Free of all responsibilities and worries. Vampires wanted to be invincible, Slayers needed to be stronger. If she herself hadn’t hidden behind the magical barrier she’d constructed, what would have been her greatest need that the demon mist granted? She had no way of knowing what would have happened to her. For instance, did she really want all this magical power? Had it ruined her life? Would the demon have sensed that and removed it from her? Well, she would never know now.

Suddenly, just as her phone rang, she pointed ahead – “Look!” And to the right of the road as they raced down the slope and round a corner, she could see the night sky was stained with a faint red glow – the colour of fresh blood……

The wind coursing across Salisbury Plain was blowing harder now, bringing in icy cold air from the north. Buffy’s hair was torn from its fastenings and blew round her head like a halo. Underneath the racing clouds, a faint crimson light was beginning to appear, thrown upwards from the great stones of Stonehenge.

“Hey, Plaguey Boy’s nearly here! Come on!” Buffy was laughing, her hands flat against one of the huge stones that made up the vast circle. She could feel the intense heat growing, the tremble and rumble of something happening deep underground. The very air was glowing red now and she could taste smoke and something old and bitter in the air.

Spike vamped out and spun on his heels, leather coat flying. Which way would the bloody attack come? Where would it burst out of the ground? Could they beat it? One thing was certain, his mate, his Slayer seemed to have no doubts at all. She wasn't even the slightest bit scared. And that worried him – no terrified him! - more than the arrival of the demon itself.

He could still feel her last kiss on his lips – and it tasted – wonderful, exciting and – strange. She was still Buffy, still his love, still the Slayer, but buried under all the romanticism of his William nature there was a small nugget of realism that had never gone away. Whether he liked it or not, the Slayer was changing – just as he was! There was no way he could deny it and no way he could tell what they would both become. The fabric of their lives was altering and his biggest fear was that it would tear and the shock of that would toss them apart for ever.

Buffy’s eyes were sparkling in the starlight. Every inch of her body was tingling with the desire to fight, the knowledge that she was growing stronger with every passing second. Throughout her whole life, she’d struggled for just that – trained and exercised, fought and overcome all sorts of odds, knowing that she was still not strong enough, that one day she would meet something even stronger than her and that would be the day she died. But now -

Suddenly, in the middle of the circle, a huge section of turf glowed red and burst into small dancing flames. With a roar, the ground fell away and a smooth sided shaft appeared, full of angry crimson smoke.

“It’s nearly here, Spike! Stay back!” She edged forward, peering down, fists clenched, her face bathed with the light of thousand hells. Raising her head at last, her eyes gleamed across the pit to where Spike stood, coat flying back in the hot wind, vamping out, joyfully ready to fight to the death with her. And in a flash, no more than a second, Buffy knew she was happy, totally, without any doubts. At this moment she needed nothing else to complete her life. She took a deep breath, ready for the battle, preparing for war and victory!

And nothing appeared! No demon, no plague mist, nothing. The column of hot air blew away in the cold wind and the roiling red smoke vanished as if it had never been. Only the black, singed earth at her feet showed her that something had been there.

Spike vamped back to human face. “Where did it go?”

“Westwards.” Giles’ voice made them spin round. “Always westwards.”

Buffy walked round to Spike’s side. She didn’t like the way her Watcher looked at her lover. She realised she never had. “I don’t understand, Giles. Why won’t it fight? Hey, is it scared of me? Well, so it should be. I defeated The First. Perhaps it knows that.”

“Buffy!” It was Willow, panting up the slope from the road. “Don't freak out, but I don’t think it even knows you’re there! Kennedy just rang me. She’s found out a lot about it in old manuscripts she discovered in some strange underground place in Cardiff – that’s a town in Wales. She says it makes it fairly obvious, the demon hasn’t come to England to settle. It’s just passing through on its way to America. It heads for places that have some sort of mystical strength so it can feed and then travels on again.”

Buffy pushed away the thought of why someone would have stored old documents about demons in Cardiff and concentrated on what Willow was saying. “You mean, the Devil’s Punchbowl, Stonehenge, they’re just – just - stops to take on gas?”

Willow nodded. “Kennedy reckons it will surface under Cardiff for another load of energy and then head out under the North Sea to the States.”

Buffy shuddered. “We can’t let it do that.”

Giles stared down at the pit. “There’s no way of stopping it. All we can do is alert the Slayers on the East Coast and hope we can come up with a plan before it reaches them. We’ve got our own problems to sort out.”

Buffy stared at him in astonishment. “What the heck is more important than stopping this Plague Demon?”

Giles reached out a hand to her, but she ignored it. “Buffy, from what Kennedy says, Willow and I think that now the Demon has passed through, the changes he made to us all will start to fade. The children will revert to adults, our strength will lessen and vampires will become – well, ordinary vampires again, if there is such a thing!”

“And you’re happy about that? Oh don’t lie to me, Giles. Jeez, I can see from your face that you think that’s a great idea.”

“Buffy – don’t you want to go back to how things were?” Willow stared at her, confused.

“Buffy likes being stronger than everyone and Spike likes being invincible,” Giles said, his voice suddenly cold.

The vampire grinned at him. “Well, if there’s a choice between sodding well dying and staying alive, strangely enough, I choose staying alive every time. But perhaps I’m funny that way, Rupert.”

Irritably, the Watcher waved a hand at him. “Well, luckily for us, Spike, you don’t have a choice. The demon has gone on westwards. By my calculations, life should start returning to normal by tomorrow at the latest. So I would suggest you get under cover before the sun comes up.”

He turned to the small blonde girl standing opposite him, across the yawning pit at their feet. “Buffy – I know you wanted to kill this thing, but this obviously wasn’t the right time and place. And if it was just you being super strong, then I might say it’s a pity you have to revert to normal, but vampires whom we can’t kill – no, I won’t countenance a world where that’s the way of life.” There was a long silence, then he said wearily, “Well, right, come on, Willow. Let’s drive down to Emsworth and see if any of the children have changed back yet. Buffy, I’ll see you in London. And do be careful of my car!”

He turned away and headed towards the road. Willow hesitated to follow him. “He’s right, Buff. I know it’s making you freak out but honestly, this isn’t where we get to kill the demon. Not everything is that neat and tidy in life, like a television show where the plot has to be finished by the end of the hour. We need to sort out the huge mess the demon’s left behind here, then fly across to the States and track it to its final lair, wherever that may be. Kennedy will probably come up with loads more info for us. We’ll kill it in America.”

She turned to follow Giles, then said, “I’ll see you in London, right?”

“We’ll see you soon, Will. Oh, and thank Kennedy. She’s been a big help.”

Willow frowned. This cool, controlled, polite Buffy was yet another new person. And one she didn’t much like. She threw an agonised glance at Spike, but he was staring down into the empty pit, like a cat whose mouse has refused to come out and play.

“OK. Bye, for now.”

Buffy watched her friend stumble away across the grass, saw her get into the car next to Giles and watched as the headlights cut a circle through the dark as Giles turned and set off eastwards once more. She sensed Spike rather than heard him. Without looking she leant back against his chest as his arms closed round her and his chin nuzzled in the soft hair above her ear.

“So it’s back to normal tomorrow, then, Slayer. Do you think that could include a nice soft bed, closed curtains and a bottle of champagne? I’ll probably need a lot of loving tender care when I’m not invincible any more. You know, lots of massaging to get all the kinks out of my muscles. All this anti-climax is bad for me – I could do with a bit of proper climax for once!”

Buffy smiled at the wistful, hopeful tone of his voice and for a few minutes she let herself imagine them alone, free to do what they liked – and they usually liked a lot. They had had such a short time together since she discovered he was still alive. A few days, then the Plague Demon had arrived. She allowed herself memories of those days, then shut the thoughts carefully away inside her and said, “Giles and Willow are wrong.”

Spike turned her in his arms and stared into the eyes that could see so deeply into his still fairly new soul. “Buffy…..”

“Think about it, Spike. We fly home, back to our normal selves, then what? Hang around hoping it hasn’t gone past us again? Watch whole sections of the States become child-ridden? Trust that we get infected again, because, hey, believe me, there’s no way we’re going to stop it otherwise. And we're still no closer to knowing what it wants in the States.”

“Giles – ”

“Giles is just so thankful to learn that the effects wear off, that he can kill you and any other vampire, he’s not thinking straight.”

“So, what do we do?”

Buffy eased herself away from him. “We don’t have to do anything.” She walked around the pit and stared down into it. “I do!”

Spike gazed at her, his eyes widening as he realised what she was saying. “You’re going after it. Now?”

She flung back her head, hands on hips, eyes begging for understanding. “Don’t you see? Every minute that passes, I grow weaker and weaker, sliding back to my old self, which was never strong enough to beat it. It leaves a wide trail – one I can follow while I’m strong. I have to go! And I’m sorry – I know we’ve only just found each other, but you could have a good life here, back home – ”

Like some great cat, Spike leapt across the pit to her side. He tangled a hand in her hair and jerked her head back. His kiss wasn’t tender or loving. It was brutal, possessive, angry, consuming. “Bloody hell, Slayer. You’ve said some stupid things to me in your time, but that last little pity ditty takes the biscuit. If you think for one moment that I’d let you go chasing Plaguey on your own, having all the fun without me, you must be a sandwich short of a picnic!”

Buffy struggled to get her breath, tears running down her cheeks. “We might never come back. We could both die.”

Spike’s laugh echoed off the towering grey stones that had stood for so many years, seen so much of man and vampire kind come and go. He threw back his head and the starlight sparkled in his eyes. He took a deep breath of what might be the last fresh air he ever tasted. “So we could, but while we’re waiting for that to happen, I suggest we both live, Slayer. Race you!”

And without a backward glance, he leapt into the pit. Buffy stood for a second, gazing up at the night sky, too. Would she ever see it again? Did she care? No, if she was truthful all that mattered was the mission and joining her lover in a new adventure.

She jumped and seconds later the ground shifted, the turf settled back and the stones continued their long wait. And somewhere underground, a Slayer and Vampire walked hand in hand towards the West.

The end.

Author’s Note:  
So this part of Buffy and Spike's adventures, Forever and a Day, has come to a conclusion. Part Two – Forever Means Forever - will be uploaded when it's written!


End file.
